


Blessings of the Eight and One

by dieunerbittlichefuchs



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Featuring many minor characters, Hopefully very lore-compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11687517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieunerbittlichefuchs/pseuds/dieunerbittlichefuchs
Summary: For the first time in his life, the gods may have actually done something nice to Peryn.





	1. First Impressions

17th of Last Seed, Sundas, 4E201

It was a shame, he decided, that he had to lay eyes on the most beautiful man he'd ever seen when he was in line to get executed. It was also probably the gods giving him one more chance to appreciate how many times he'd escaped death. That idiot Lokir had run off and gotten himself a back full of arrows, something Peryn didn't much fancy. Better to get your head chopped nice and quick than bleed out on the street.

"Wait," the Nord Peryn had spent the last few minutes watching said, looking at his list in confusion. "You there, step forward." Hardly necessary to say who he meant, Peryn thought. He was the last one in this line of the damned.

"Who are you?" he asked. Gods, Peryn hadn't even paid attention to that voice before now. It was beautiful, though he couldn't say why. But he couldn't look at the man too long, this wasn't the time.

"Peryn," he said, then coughed as he heard his own voice come out weak and unsure. "My name is Peryn Gaerton."

"You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?" the Nord asked.

Peryn looked down at his feet. "There's more to High Rock than Daggerfall. I'm from Wayrest."

"What do we do, captain?" He asked. Peryn got a good look at his eyes as he—gods, this wasn't the time. He needed to stop this. He sent a quick prayer to Mara to let him not fall for someone who was going to kill him in a few minutes.

"Forget the list," the captain said. She was a lovely figure, that's for sure. Damn Empire and their damn regulations to be ignored whenever they felt like it. Peryn knew that was a little uncharitable, and all he'd seen of this gods-forsaken province was a warzone, so he couldn't blame her much, but still. To Oblivion with her.

The man looked as though he was going to argue for a second, then thought better of it. "By your orders, Captain. I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock." Peryn nodded, a little surprised to hear genuine regret in the Nord's voice. Not that he could blame a foot solider for not arguing with a superior officer when a general was in the vicinity. No point getting yourself hanged for treason. Or he could just get in line on for the block.

The general was talking to the man who'd been identified as the leader of this little rebellion Peryn had just gotten himself mixed up in. Peryn didn't see the need for the gloating, but there he was anyway, listening to the general give a little speech.

Then he heard the roar. Nobody but him and the secretary of a solider noticed. "What was that?" the man asked.

"It's nothing," the general said, though Peryn noticed that his speech had been cut short. "Carry on."

After the priest had been so rudely interrupted by someone a little too eager to die, it was Peryn's turn. The captain had seemed almost gleeful to call for him.

A second roar sounded as the solider placed his hand on Peryn's back to guide him to the block. "Did you hear that?" he asked. Peryn was glad for the timing, because it made his flinch seem more as a result of the noise than the touch.

"I said next prisoner!" The captain certainly was in a rush at the moment.

"To the block, Peryn. Nice and easy." Peryn was certainly happy that the Nord behind him remembered his name, but wasn't sure if he should be grateful or irritated by being led to the block. He settled on both.

And then Oblivion broke loose, delivered by a dragon. Peryn didn't remember much of what happened, mostly that there was a lot of running and a lot of screaming, and then he was following the Imperial soldier into the keep.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?" he said, shaking his head. "We should keep moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

Once Peryn had stepped closer to let him cut off the bindings, the Nord went rooting around in one of the chests laying against a bed. "Here we go," he said, handing Peryn some armor and a sword.

"You really think giving someone who was almost executed a weapon is a good idea?" he asked as he put the armor on.

"No," he said. "But I don't have much choice right now. Besides, I like the look of you. You're a good man, Peryn, you won't kill me."

***

Hadvar wasn't entirely sure why he trusted the Breton, but it didn't matter much. He didn't think they were getting out alive if he didn't give Peryn some way to defend himself, and he wasn't going to just leave him there. The poor man didn't deserve to die because he got mixed up with the Stormcloaks, whether it was by axe or by dragon.

They moved on through the keep, soon running into a pair of Stormcloaks mourning a dead one. "Maybe we can try and reason with them," he said.

"You Imperials tried to kill their leader a few minutes ago," Peryn said. "I somehow doubt they'll be in a mood to talk."

"They're still Nords, even if they are misguided," Hadvar said. "They deserve a chance to get out of here alive."

"Would they give you, or me, that same courtesy?" Peryn asked, unconvinced.

"Look, we don't have time for this," Hadvar said, "I'm going to try."

"And I'm going to keep my sword out."

Peryn was right, much to Hadvar's disappointment. He didn't even have a chance to try to talk to the Stormcloaks before they attacked. What a waste of lives, he thought.

They made their way through the keep, running into occasional groups of Stormcloaks that Hadvar didn't even bother trying to talk to. He noticed that Peryn didn't say anything about the first pair, and was grateful for it.

They got out of the torturer's room as quickly as they could, neither Hadvar nor Peryn much liking the place. And when the bridge collapsed, trapping the old man inside, well, that was just fine by Hadvar. If anyone deserved to die today, it was that bastard.

And then they were out. The dragon made one last past behind the barrow and then flew off.

"Thank the gods we got out. Looks like he's gone for good this time. But I don't think we should stick around to find out," Hadvar said.

"Where are you headed?" Peryn asked.

"Ah, right, you're new to Skyrim," Hadvar said. "Listen, my uncle Alvor is the blacksmith in Riverwood, a town not too far from here. Come with me there, and we'll see what's next."

As the two of them went along, Hadvar pointed out most of the things he knew of the area. He took Peryn to the Guardian Stones, making an approving comment when the Breton accepted the blessing of the warrior. He pointed out the barrow on the mountain, and talked about the nightmares it gave him when he was a kid. Peryn ran along beside him, listening intently to all of it. While they were stopped at the Stones, Hadvar took a moment to look at his new companion. Like most other Bretons he'd met, Peryn was shorter than Hadvar, though he was more muscular than most of his people. He certainly had shown no trouble keeping up through the fighting and running in Helgen, though Hadvar wasn't sure how much of that could be chalked up to pure adrenaline.

It was nearly dusk when they entered Riverwood, and Uncle Alvor was putting away his tools at his forge for the night when Hadvar and Peryn made it up to the house. It took a few minutes for Hadvar to get his uncle inside and prevent a scene—Talos knows that wouldn't help a damn thing—but eventually he was able to get Alvor and Peryn inside so he could explain what had happened.

Uncle Alvor didn't believe it at first, of course he didn't: Hadvar barely believed it himself, but eventually he went pale as he realized that Hadvar was completely serious.

"Gods above," he said. "The Jarl needs to know there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless."

"I can go tell him," Peryn said.

"Are you sure? You went through a lot the last couple days, getting caught in that ambush and then the dragon attack," Hadvar said.

"Just give me a spot on the floor tonight and I can head out in the morning," the Breton said, sounding as exhausted as Hadvar feared he was.

"I'll stay here for a few days and see if I can't get a head start on the defenses here," Hadvar said. "Then I'll make my way back to Solitude."

He later was able to pull Peryn away from Dorthe long enough to get him to the inn for a quick drink, one they both needed desperately.

"You know, you should go to Solitude and join up with the Imperial Legion. We could really use someone like you."

"After you lot just tried to chop my head off?" Peryn snorted.

"Look, I know today wasn't the best introduction to the Legion, but I hope you'll give us another chance. The Legion could really use someone like you, especially now. And you weren't supposed to be on the cart with those Stormcloaks."

"I'll have to think about it," Peryn said.

"Sure, I understand. It's not easy to go from being executed by the Legion one day to joining up the next. But as far as I'm concerned you've already earned your pardon. Just be careful until we get that confirmed with General Tullius, alright? I don't expect anybody will recognize you, but I don't want you getting killed over this." It wasn't until he stopped talking that Hadvar noticed he'd put his hand on the Breton's shoulder. He withdrew it quickly.

***

Peryn had intended to leave for Whiterun the next day, but after getting involved with a pair of idiots who were after the same girl and being forced to play saboteur, well he helped the nice idiot instead of the rude idiot and put him well on the path to having a wife. Turns out the girl's brother was robbed earlier in the week, and wanted some help getting back whatever was taken.

Peryn had asked Hadvar to help with it, promising to go to Whiterun as soon as they finished but Hadvar refused to have anything to do with that old barrow.

"I don't think the situation here is that desperate, so don't worry about going," he had said, "But that old place gives me the creeps, even now."

Peryn was a little disappointed not to have Hadvar by his side as he went into the barrow, but he figured Camilla's suitor would do just as well. Between him, Faendal, and his familiar, they made quick work of the bandits.

"Arvel the Swift, eh?" he said, looking the man who was tied up by the spider's webs up and down. "Can't think of anything good that would get you that name."

"Yeah, yeah just cut me down!" He'd said. Naturally he took off as soon as Peryn did so, and Peryn would have admitted, if pressed, that hearing the man's scream as he was impaled on a spike trap was more than a little satisfying.

In the end, they made it out with the claw and an interesting stone that Peryn had found on the last of the dragur they killed. He also heard something as they passed near a wall with some kind of carvings on it. Faendal didn't hear a thing.

23rd of Last Seed, Loredas, 4E 201

Peryn had tried, unsuccessfully, to convince the Jarl of two things: one, that he had absolutely no business caught up in that rebellion nonsense, and two, that just because he had escaped Helgen did not mean he had any more experience fighting dragons than anybody else in the Hold. In fact, as his hands were bound during the attack, he literally could not do anything besides run like all Oblivion was chasing him. Though he had certainly made an impression when he grinned like a wolf telling Balgruuf that he'd had the best view of dragon than anybody due to being on the block at the time. The Jarl was clearly made uncomfortable by the statement, and Peryn relished the feeling of making it clear to him that while Balgruuf had the power, Peryn didn't give a damn. He'd been cheating death for the last decade and a half; you had to do far better than slouch on a throne to intimidate him.

It was unlucky, then, that the strange rock he'd picked up in the barrow near Riverwood happened to be exactly what Farengar was looking for. The man was clearly surprised to see the Dragonstone appear in his hands right after asking someone to get it. Peryn laughed at his expression.

The amusement was short lived, however, as Ireleth came running back from the door with news of a dragon sighting in the area. And that was how Peryn found himself standing on top of the ruins of a watchtower, shooting arrows at a dragon. The damn thing taunted them while raining fire from above, killing several of the guards the Jarl had sent to try and protect his Hold. But eventually it couldn't take any more arrows piercing its hide and collapsed on the ground with a scream.

Peryn didn't know who got the kill, himself or one of the remaining guards on the ground, but it didn't matter in the end. The dragon was dead. He came down from the watchtower to join the men as they stood around the corpse of the dragon, watching in hushed awe at the beast they had just killed. The group quickly became uneasy as the dragon began to glow, and collectively lost their mind when the wind picked up and the light became too bright to look at. Peryn closed his eyes, and when he was able to open them again, there was only a dragon skeleton left.

The gods, Peryn decided, could go fuck themselves. And just to annoy them he was going to take his lovely new Fire Atronach and his rather sarcastic sworn sword to Solitude instead of up to the top of an extremely tall mountain.

Of course, things never work out quite that well, and he ended up getting roped into doing a couple of favors around town. But tomorrow, he decided, almost a week after he left Riverwood, he was going to join the bloody legion and put off this whole Dragonborn business for as long as he could.

"Hail, friend," he heard from over his shoulder. The man who had spoken was certainly not a friend, in fact, Peryn hadn't talked to him before, though he'd seen him around Whiterun during his stay at the Bannered Mare. That's where he was now, watching Lydia talk about how they'd almost gotten killed to whoever would listen to the story, clearly being mildly derogative towards her Thane's breeding and intelligence. He wished she'd be more creative.

Peryn turned to look at the man who'd sat down next to him. He was huge, to put it simply. Probably half a head taller than Peryn was, and with the armor he was wearing, looked like he could easily snap Peryn's neck if he so desired. Peryn immediately thought it was a good idea to make sure he never got the urge.

"What can I help you with?" he asked. The man laughed.

"You don't recognize me. I guess that's not too surprising, since you're new and all. Name's Farkas. I'm with the Companions."

"Peryn," he said, tipping his tankard forward in greeting.

"I don't know if you remember, but you helped me kill a giant a few days ago. Probably when you first got to Whiterun." Farkas said. "Aela said you should come by Jorvaskar and join us. She said I should come and collect since you haven't been by."

"I'm guessing the mead is just a benefit?" Peryn said with a wry smile.

"Nah, Jorvaskar's a mead hall anyway, and it's the same stuff. Just different people. Haven't had a good chat with Lydia in weeks before tonight, so it was good to get to see her."

"So what do you want with me?"

Farkas looked at him strangely. "I thought I told you. I'm here to get you to join the Companions."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Peryn asked, shifting to face the Companion.

"You fight with us, for honor. You share in our legends. You become a Shield-Brother to me and the rest of Jorvaskar." Farkas' eyes shone as he talked about the hall, the people who lived there and fought at his side, and Peryn couldn't help but be interested in at least dropping by in the morning and seeing what the Companions were like. If nothing else, they seemed like an interesting bunch.

After being able to wield a sword well enough to convince Vilkas that he wasn't hopeless, Peryn spent the rest of the day running errands for the Circle. Not that they were treating him like a child, he would have left immediately if that were the case, but there was clearly an attempt to establish hierarchy and get him to get used to being on the bottom.

Not that he would have to stick around and endure it for very long. There were some perks to being Thane, and Peryn also told the Harbinger that he had been summoned to High Hrothgar. Kodlak Whitemane was a smart one, and told him that to have a Dragonborn as a Shield-Brother meant that some things were going to be…different than usual. Rather than having a training regimen like the rest of the whelps, he was free to come and go as he pleased, since he had other business that was written in an Elder Scroll to take care of.

He made sure to do the job that Farkas gave him before he left, killing some bandits that were harassing travelers as a show of good faith. They had holed up in an old fort of some kind crossing the White River east of the city. Going up against the atronach, Lydia, and Peryn, they were easily outmatched. Peryn realized just how useful this Shouting business could be when he tried to knock a bandit down and ended up Shouting him off the narrow bridge and down to the river

The morning after reporting success to Farkas, Peryn and Lydia began traveling west toward Solitude. The trip was cold and thankfully uneventful, though Peryn wished that maybe something would happen. He had considered a small detour to Morthal for the variety but Lydia was quite against it.

"Don't go to Morthal, my Thane. Everything in the Hold wants to kill you, and the people there think knowing a healing spell makes you a daedra. Hardly a place for a spellsword like yourself." She had said.

"At least Morthal has warm beds," Peryn said, wrapping his furs more tightly around himself.

"Aye, but if you want to die warm, you can just get that atronach to roast you. I promise it'll be more pleasant than Hjaalmarch."

***

9th Heartfire, Tirdas, 4E201

"Solitude," Lydia said with a sigh as they neared the gates. "Home of more people than I care to count who have inflated opinions of themselves and their own importance."  
"A good number of them have packed into Windhelm, too, if I recall." Peryn said.

"Aye, this war is good for absolutely nothing except egos. I've heard of people bragging that their grain goes to feed an army. Like it matters who makes bread from what wheat." She shook her head.

"Ah, but are you really a True Nord if you help the wrong side in any way?" Peryn asked.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You're joking, but I've heard people say basically that. Soon they'll be asking beggars which side they're on before giving them a septim. Can't give charity to a damned Imperial beggar, after all."

"That'll work well with the with us or against us attitude," Peryn mused.

They were just in time for an execution. Apparently there were just getting around to killing the guy who'd let Ulfric out of the city. Peryn was surprised that they hadn't killed him months ago, as soon as this rebellion started. He guessed the Empire didn't see the need to create a martyr back when this was some provincial rebellion instead of a full blown civil war in the province.

They didn't have time to dwell on the execution; it was already late afternoon and Peryn wanted to get to the Legion headquarters as soon as he could. He caught himself looking for Hadvar among the faces of the guards, only noticing that they weren't Legionnaires when he saw their shields. As he and Lydia approached Caste Dour, though, the guards became Legion soldiers again, and he resumed looking for Hadvar.

General Tullius was arguing with another officer about Jarl Balgruuf's insistence on appearing neutral in the war when Peryn entered the castle. He understood the general's frustration: the Stormcloaks weren't likely to appreciate neutrality, what with their idea that everyone who wasn't on their side was a traitor to Skyrim. When he'd asked the Jarl about it before leaving Whiterun, Peryn had cautioned him that the city couldn't be neutral forever.

"My Jarl, I will respect your decision either way, but you must know that one side or the other is going to make a move to force us to join them."

"And if they do then I'll make my decision then, but I will not risk my Hold being ravaged and my people being slaughtered for naught."

"Those will happen regardless of which side you take, including no side at all."

"There will be a day, and I fear it soon, that I have to declare in this idiotic war. Until then, I refuse to get involved."  
"Yes, my Jarl."

"And where are you going?"

"To smith more arrows for the men. Gods know they'll need them if they're the only line of defense the city has."

"Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle? Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?" the general asked, snapping Peryn out of his thoughts.

"I'm Peryn Gaerton," he said. "I believe we've met."

"Have we? Oh. Of course. You were at Helgen! One of the prisoners, if I recall correctly. There something I can do for you? Perhaps direct you to the nearest prison..."

Peryn grimaced. "I'd rather go back to the block in truth, sir."

"That could easily be arranged," Tullius said, with a pointed look. "So how about you tell me why you're really here."

"Hadvar suggested I enlist after we got out of Helgen. He said he'd put in a good word for me."  
"Hadvar's alive? I hope that's true. He's a damn good soldier. But he hasn't reported in yet, so he can't exactly confirm your story. Until he does…no, I can't risk that. Until he does, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you into custody. Can't allow a Stormcloak spy to get in by murdering my men and claiming to know them. Guards!"

"You can't imprison him for absolutely nothing!" Lydia said, turning red with anger.

"Easy, Lydia, no point causing a fight we'll lose." Peryn said, putting a hand in front of Lydia in warning.

"Sir, I think that's a little unnecessary," the other Imperial officer said, moving over from the war map.

When Lydia and the general both responded at the same time, well, the situation dissolved into two pairs of people yelling at each other, much to the confusion the nearby guards, who pointedly tried not to pay attention to their general and their Legate fight over whether the newcomer should go to the dungeon or not, and the newcomer try to argue with his companion why that would be perfectly fine for a day or two if she would just try to find Hadvar in the meantime.

The guards looked at each other and decided that yes, they did in fact all need drinks, good, stiff ones, as soon as their shifts were over. Gods help them.


	2. Joining the Legion

9th Heartfire, Tirdas, 4E 201

Hadvar arrived in Solitude right after the execution. They were cleaning up the body when he arrived, and one of the gate guards told him that Roggvir had finally been killed for his role in starting the rebellion. Hadvar didn't see the point of the execution—it felt a little like taking revenge on the poor man for a rebellion that he didn't really have much to do with- but he didn't say anything about it, making his way quickly to Castle Dour to report to General Tullius.

As he entered the courtyard and approached the door, one of the guards called out to him. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you. The General and Legate are in a screaming match with someone else who came in earlier. Some Breton. Might be good to give them some space."

Some Breton? Hadvar couldn't help but wonder. "Thanks for the warning. I'll see if someone new being in the room helps calm them down."  
"It's your skin," the guard said, opening up the door for him. "Gods be with you."

The shouting match that the guard had warned him about had settled down, but the General was still glaring at someone in the war room.

"Guards, take them into custody. But put them in the Emperor's Tower. They aren't prisoners, not yet," the general said. The Emperor's Tower? Who was he putting in there? Hadvar nearly sprinted into the war room.

"Something I can help with, sir?" he asked.

"Ah, Hadvar! Perfect timing, friend." Hadvar heard Peryn's voice from behind him and got a clap on the back. "You see, General, it's like I told you. Hadvar and I got out of Helgen together, and he suggested joining up. And now he's here to confirm that."

"Is that true, solider?" The General asked.

"Aye, sir," Hadvar said. "Peryn saved my life. I wouldn't have made it out of there without his help."

"Stop that." Peryn admonished, though Hadvar saw a twinkle in his eye. "No need to exaggerate for my sake. I didn't save your life, though I doubt one man could have fought off all those Stormcloaks by himself."

"I'd be dead if you weren't with me," Hadvar said, shrugging. "I count that as saving my life."

"Hm. Well, Prisoner—"

"Peryn," Hadvar said reflexively.

"Peryn," General Tullius, continued, a little less confidently. Hadvar heard Legate Rikke snort behind him, and felt her give him a pat on the shoulder from her place against the wall. "Why don't you have a chat with Legate Rikke. She's the one trying to escape the room." Hadvar looked around, and saw that the Legate had indeed moved from his right shoulder to his left, closer to the door than she was before. She looked completely innocent and taken aback at the suggestion. Hadvar knew that was all a front. While Rikke was a good solider, she didn't like all of the general's plans and often managed to disappear when she was supposed to direct someone to do something she didn't like.

"I suspect we might have use for someone resourceful like you," Tullius said, attention switching back to Peryn. "Not many survived Helgen. Besides," he added, with a touch of dry humor, "I'm sure you're being imprisoned was all a terrible misunderstanding."

"Yes, sir," Peryn said.

"Good, and Hadvar, good to see you're alive. While Rikke explains the recruit's task to enlist, you and I need to talk. Come with me to the courtyard."

"Sir," Hadvar said, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice. Task? Most new recruits just had to take the oath and get their orders.

Out in the courtyard, Tullius explained what the task Peryn was being assigned to was. "I don't trust him," he said, simply. "We know nothing about him other than the fact that he got involved in that ambush that captured Ulfric Stormcloak. I know you say he helped you out in Helgen. How much do you trust him?"

"With my life," Hadvar said, immediately. It was a reaction as much as anything else, though when he thought about it, he did trust Peryn as though he'd known him for years.

"Rikke is going to send him out to Fort Hraggstad to clean the place up."

"Fort Hraggstad?" Hadvar asked, "But sir, we already sent a team up there and they got wiped out. We can't send one man in there, it's a suicide mission."

"If he goes in and cleans the place out, then he wants to be in the Legion and he could be really helpful to us, if he dies, then, well, that's all we need."  
"And if he figures out you don't give a damn if he dies and heads over to Eastmarch?" Hadvar asked, bitterly.

"Have more faith in him," Tullius said, shrugging. "I think he'll have little trouble there between his own skills and his sworn sword."

"Aye, sir," Hadvar sighed. "Where should I report?"

"See if Captain Aldis needs anything from you for now. If not, return to me and Rikke and we'll find something in one of the Holds you can help with."

"Sir,' Hadvar said, turning away.

"And Hadvar," Tullius said. Hadvar turned to look at the general. "Glad to have you back, solider. Take care of yourself." He turned and went back into the castle.

Peryn watched as Tullius and Hadvar went out to the courtyard before going over to Rikke, who'd moved back to the war map.

"General Tullius told me what happened at Helgen," she said. "Not many people made it out alive. I've got a good feeling about you, and I don't get good feelings very often. A warrior knows to trust her gut. I'm not going to go through the normal process with you. I've got a little test lined up. Pass that, and we'll talk about you joining the Legion." Peryn got the distinct feeling that she was lying on at least one count, but which one exactly that was escaped him.

"What kind of test are we talking about?" he asked.

The kind that evaluates your usefulness during... duress." Peryn noted that she seemed to take a second to search for the right word. "I'm sending you to clear out Fort Hraggstad. If you survive, you'll pass. If you die, then I'll have no further use for your corpse."

Blunt. Peryn liked that. No point leading him on with promises of glory, just honest, kill or be killed work.  
"What's at Fort Hraggstead?"

"The ancients built many of the fortresses that dot the landscape of Skyrim. Sadly, most have fallen into disrepair. And nearly all have been overrun with bandits or other vagabonds. Fort Hraggstad is one of the few that remains mostly intact. We're going to install a garrison there, but first, you're going to clean out the bandits that have moved in."

"Alright. Consider that fort already yours."

"Good!" Rikke said, letting a little smile show. "That's what I want to hear. Now go make it happen, solider."

"Spetim for your thoughts?" Peryn asked Lydia as they walked toward the inn near the gate. They decided after they left Castle Dour that they weren't going to leave for Hraggstad that night. The desire for a real bed was more than a small part of why they were delaying heading out until the morning.

"Sending out a new recruit to clear out of bunch of bandits seems a lot less like a test and a lot more like a way to get rid of the prisoner who escaped Helgen." She said, choosing her words carefully.

"I thought the same thing, honestly," Peryn said, "But I don't think Rikke expects us to get killed. Maybe before talking to her, but…" he gestured aimlessly at the air in front of him. "I don't know; I think we can actually do it. At least I think she thinks we can."

Lydia sighed. "I'm sworn to your service, my Thane, but that doesn't mean my self-preservation skills are gone. I'll help you, of course, but I'd make my peace with the gods if I were you."

"Have faith in us," Peryn said with a wry smile. "We've killed two dragons together, and the one at the watchtower. I'm sure that the bandits won't be any trouble as long as we're careful."  
"Aye, but there's the catch. If we're careful. If we get a little headstrong or careless, well, then we'll be dead."

"You really brighten up my day," Peryn grumbled good naturedly.

"It's why I'm here," she said, a little lightness to her voice.

After getting their room from Vinius, Peryn and Lydia settled down near the fire with mugs of mead and bowls of stew.

"It's nice to be able to really relax without worrying about something coming out of the dark to eat us while we eat," Peryn said.  
"Don't be sure someone won't, my Thane," Lydia said. "No bears, for sure, but some Nords make good enough substitutes: big, hairy, and grumpy."

"I know: I've been around you."

"Watch it half-breed," Lydia said, covering the raised corners of her mouth with her mug.

The next morning, they set out from the Winking Skeever at dawn after another bowl of stew. The sun was just climbing over the Karth River in the east, causing the islands in Hjallmarch that were visible in the distance to look as though they were floating as they water shimmered around them. Skyrim was a beautiful place, Peryn thought. Well, at least when the whole province wasn't trying to kill you.

"Peryn!" he heard from down the street. He turned to see Hadvar running, full sprint, toward the gate. He stopped to catch his breath once he reached him.

"Hadvar? What are you doing?" Peryn asked.

"I'm coming with you. I persuaded Captain Aldis to give me a couple of days "recovery" time. This thing Rikke's got you on is more than likely to get you killed. Either you prove loyalty and usefulness or a threat is eliminated." Hadvar said, mostly in one breath. Peryn ignored the pointed look that Lydia gave him. "Tullius is a good man, I honestly believe that, but this war has got him on edge, especially since Helgen, from what I've heard. When we get back, you'll see a better side, I promise."

"Either way, we're glad to have you along, Hadvar." Peryn said. "It'll be good to have the aid, even if Rikke isn't too pleased with me having help on my 'test'"

"To Oblivion with your test," Hadvar said with intensity that surprised Peryn. "You're no good to anyone dead, and gods know I can't just sit by and let you die."  
"You don't owe me for Helgen," Peryn said quietly.

"No, but I'm not one to let a friend walk to his death," Hadvar said, gripping Peryn's arm fiercely. The two of them stood there in silence for a minute, eyes locked, before Lydia coughed impatiently.

"Are we going to kill some bandits or aren't we?" she asked.

13th Heartfire, Loredas, 4E201

Fort Hraggstad was tucked against the side of a mountain some distance from the road that snaked along the inland side of the mountains that ran along the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. Despite the mountains and fort blocking most of the wind, it was cold. Peryn hated it, though the temperature didn't seem to bother Lydia or Hadvar much.

The first sentry was easily dispatched by a well-placed arrow. Peryn figured they had five minutes at most before someone noticed the body, less if the other sentry looked over from her post. She was too far away for Peryn to be able to hit, and through a wordless conversation he understood that neither of the Nords would be able to either.

That meant there was a problem. The bush they were crouched behind was the last good spot for cover before the fort itself, and they had no idea how many bandits were in the courtyard or close enough to hear the sounds of fighting. If there were only a few, then it would be easy, and if not, well, there'd be three more corpses in the place. They also had no guarantee of making it to the courtyard without being spotted by the other sentry, and if she raised an alarm, they were as good as dead.

Peryn had a thought, not a very good one, but better than standing around waiting to be killed. He summoned his familiar, a wolf-like creature. It was a daedra of some kind, everything summoned was technically from Oblivion, despite its natural appearance. The creature ran up to the gate and in to the courtyard, using the light reflecting off the snow and its own spectral appearance to prevent the sentry from seeing it. Peryn released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. If the sentry, who was now falling from her post, had noticed the wolf and fought it, they would have been in trouble.

The three of them moved quickly to the gate, glancing inside to see how many of the enemy they were going to have to face. A lone bandit, a large Orc clad in heavy armor, stood over the campfire, stirring something in a pot. Peryn couldn't see the other half of the courtyard from his position, but he didn't hear any other sounds from his blind spot. Even if the Orc wasn't the only bandit in the courtyard, he didn't think there was likely to be more than the three of them could fight.

Peryn readied an arrow and loosed it at the Orc. His aim was true, but the shot wasn't enough to kill the Orc, although the bandit did scream in pain and curse. Peryn heard a couple of other bandits spring into action from other parts of the camp. Of course they wouldn't be so lucky.

The Orc didn't see Lydia until she was too close for a reaction to do any good. The other bandits came rushing in from the walls and were met by Hadvar and Peryn, who had exchanged his bow for a sword and shield. There were only two of them, and they fell quickly. The courtyard was silent.

"There's probably ten more inside the keep," Hadvar said. "Otherwise, we'd have been able to take the fort by now."

"Rikke wouldn't have sent me if she thought it was easy," Peryn agreed. "Wouldn't do the job of seeing if I'm willing to die for the Empire."

They quickly checked the courtyard for anything valuable, but found little before moving in to the keep. They were met immediately by another Orc, who put up little resistance against three fighters. They held their breath as they waited to see if the quick fight had attracted any attention, but heard nothing.

The trio proceeded to move through the keep, Peryn shooting any bandit who hadn't spotted them and all three working to take down anyone who survived that first shot or they couldn't sneak up on.

The bandits clearly believed in the principle of might makes right, as the leader of the group was by far the hardest to take down. Still, she had been outnumbered three to one, and that didn't include the atronach shooting firebolts at her from behind. She did manage to give Lydia a nasty bruise on her sword arm, forcing her out of the fight while Peryn and Hadvar finished the deed.

17th Heartfire, Middas, 4E201

"Thank you for the help," Peryn said as they reached Solitude. "But you should probably report in before anyone starts wondering where you went."

"Aye," Hadvar said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "It was good to fight with you again, but I've been gone longer than I told Aldis I would be. Hopefully he doesn't ask too many questions."

Captain Aldis, it turned out, had noticed very quickly that Hadvar was gone for almost a week. Hadvar respected Aldis enough to actually apologize and explain where he'd been the whole time. After the requisite speech about how he was technically disobeying orders by being gone for so long, and had he just asked Aldis would have let him go, he was sent to the barracks.

"Though I can't say I'm too upset about it. You refused to let a friend take on a suicide mission by himself. That loyalty to your fellow soldier will serve you well, and it probably earned you some favor with the gods. Everyone could use more of that."

Hadvar slept the sleep of the just that night, convinced that Rikke and General Tullius would either not have known about the third member of the team or wouldn't hold it against them. He'd delivered them a good soldier, and one who would be loyal to the Empire in a new province.

When he awoke the next morning, a sentry entered the barracks.

"They want you at the castle," he said, and Hadvar felt his stomach drop. Rikke knew, that much was obvious. He wasn't anybody important enough to get called up to Castle Dour for any reason besides a dressing-down from the highest of the high in the Imperial Legion. He half-considered pretending he hadn't been told for the briefest of moments, before kicking himself for even thinking of doing something that would just make this whole thing worse.

He decided not to play dumb, either, since it wasn't going to make him look any better to act as though he didn't know he'd been found out. He wasn't ashamed of what he'd done, and would tell General Tullis he'd do it again and the General could piss right off if he cared.

Well, maybe not that last part. He didn't doubt Tullius would kill him if he said that.

When he reached Castle Dour, Hadvar saw Peryn sitting in a chair in the front room. He gave Hadvar a small, almost sheepish, smile when he saw him, and stood up.

"Morning," he said. "I have a feeling that I was waiting until you showed up before I get to go see them."

"What do you mean?" Hadvar asked, cocking his head slightly.

"They told me to wait out here for a bit," Peryn said, shrugging. "And then you show up…well, two and two makes four. Oh, and there's been a rather interesting argument floating through the door." Hadvar looked at him expectantly, but before he could explain what he meant by that, Rikke stepped out of the war room. "Excellent," she said. "You're both here. General Tullius and I have some things to say to the two of you."

Hadvar tried very hard to resist the urge to look at Peryn. He only partially succeeded.

"I'm assuming from the looks of you two that Fort Hraggstad is clear?" Tullius said when they entered the room.

"Yes, sir," Peryn answered.

"Good. A garrison will be dispatched shortly. The fort should help us ensure that rebels aren't able to make it close to Solitude."

"But there's another matter to discuss," Rikke said. "That's the third member of your party."

"Lydia?" Peryn asked, and Hadvar to restrain himself from slapping the man. This was not at all the time to be smart with the General and Legate Rikke. They were getting reprimanded, for Talos' sake.

"No, I meant Hadvar," Rikke said, thankfully choosing to take the diplomatic route. "You were told to report to Captain Aldis, were you not?"

"Aye, ma'am," Hadvar said.

"And you were not in the city, is that so?"

"Aye, ma'am."

"Why is that?"

"Because I felt that you had given Peryn insufficient resources for the mission you had assigned him, showing, if I may be blunt, ma'am, a disregard for his life." Hadvar started calm, but became more and more heated as he continued. "Asking two people to clear out that fort, even if they are two of the best fighters I've ever seen, was going to get someone killed, and I wasn't going to let a friend die just because it let you remove an unknown from this war. You're a Nord, ma'am you know that I couldn't just sit here while he goes off on a suicide mission, trying to prove himself to someone who isn't acting as though they care if he's alive."

Rikke didn't move while his talking started to dissolve into little more than rambling. "War, gods, war is awful, and I…" he sighed, "Gods damn those rebels and now the dragons, and… he's a good one ma'am, just believe me. And he saved my life too, I don't care what he says. He's too good a man to die forgotten somewhere."

"Almost everyone who dies in war doesn't deserve it," she said, quietly. "But I do believe you," the warmth in her voice surprised Hadvar. He hadn't thought he was that persuasive. "I wouldn't have sent him there if I didn't think he and his sworn sword couldn't handle the bandits. Look, I'll be straight with you here: you're a damn good solider and I trust your judgement. But that judgement had better be right if you're going to go behind my back again, is that clear?"  
"Ma'am" he said, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"And for you, Peryn," she said. "I can't exactly say it's how I wanted it to go, but you did do what I asked. Even with Hadvar's help, clearing out that fort was impressive work. It's time you officially joined the Legion."

Peryn stood on the walls, by a watchtower that was currently unused, looking out at the mouth of the Karth River. Rikke had sent him to get outfitted, and told him to report back in the morning. Hadvar had left to report back to Captain Aldis.

Beirand was a decent man, trying to keep Peryn distracted while he made adjustments to the standard Imperial armour, but after an hour of being fussed over, Peryn just wanted to get away. Lydia was off replenishing their food supplies, something that Peryn knew could take all day if she wanted it to. He got the feeling she was going to enjoy a market until he came and collected her.

"Septim for your thoughts?" he heard, and turned to see Hadvar approaching along the walls.

"I'd take one, but there aren't any thoughts to give you," Peryn said. "Just getting away from the bustle for a while."

"I understand," Hadvar said. "It's a lot sometimes."

"So, what brings you up here?"  
"Aldis sent me to take a look at all of the walls, make sure they weren't quietly falling apart on us. The city hasn't been under siege in a few hundred years, but, well, there is a war on." He paused for a second. "You haven't seen the view from the top of the tower, have you?"

"No, why?"

"It's even better than this one. The little extra height works wonders." Hadvar said with a grin. "Come one, follow me."

Peryn had to admit that Hadvar was right about the view being even better. He could see Morthal faintly in the distance, and Dragonbridge when he turned to the south.

"If you haven't heard it yet, welcome to Skyrim," Hadvar said, placing a hand gently on Peryn's back.

"It's a beautiful place," he said, drinking in the entire view.

"Aye," Hadvar said. "Skyrim isn't quite like any place else, or so I've heard. It's a good place to call home."

Home, Peryn thought. Wouldn't one of those be nice again. And, he thought before he had a chance to shut down the thought, wouldn't it be nice to have one with the man next to him.


	3. The Way of the Voice

24th Heartfire, Middas, 4E201

Falkreath was a dreary little town, coated in a mist that made Peryn long for the sunny shore of the Iliac Bay. The people were just as dreary as the weather, and Peryn very much regretted coming in the first place. Still, the Jarl had requested him, and Peryn knew not to antagonize someone in a position of power, no matter how localized that power might be.

Lydia, of course, had thought the whole thing mad. "What are you going to do with a plot of land?" she had asked. Peryn had to admit that she had a fair point: it's not like he was planning on taking a couple years to build a wonderful summer home. He figured getting in the Jarl's good graces was worth it on its own, though, so the actual monetary reward for whatever the Jarl wanted him to do wouldn't be nearly as important.

As soon as he saw the young Nord sitting on the throne, Peryn knew that he'd gotten himself into something he'd rather not have. The Jarl looked like a snot-nosed brat, and when he began to talk, he completely confirmed Peryn's initial impression.

"Yes, what do you want?" he asked, as though someone coming up to him while he was holding court was a horrible offense, rather than the only reason he was sitting in the room in the first place.

"You sent me a letter," Peryn said. "I'm answering your summons, my Jarl."

"There's a group of bandits in my Hold that I... may have had a few discreet dealings with," the Jarl began. "The cut they were giving me was good at first, but now it's time to clean things up. Go and take care of it."

Peryn had to stop himself from setting the man on fire. Not only was he being sent off to do the corrupt Jarl's dirty work, it was dirty work that needed to get done anyway, to help the hold. He could tell the Jarl to go and fuck himself, but that wouldn't kill the bandits, who were probably harassing travelers as he stood in the longhouse.

"Of course, my Jarl," he said, trying to not grit his teeth.

"I don't think I have to say I told you so," Lydia said as they walked out of town.

"I'm going to enjoy killing these bandits," Peryn said.

He did enjoy killing those bandits. Very much.

1 Frostfall, Middas, 4E201

Ivarstead was a quiet town, even quieter than Riverwood, that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of providing beds and supplies to pilgrims traveling to and from the Throat of the World. The town had been hit hard recently, apparently from the civil war deterring pilgrims, and not from pilgrims deciding not to trek up to the top of the largest mountain in Tamriel. The second explanation made far more sense to Peryn, especially when he learned from Klimmek that nobody actually ever got to go inside High Hrothgar.

But, they had summoned him, and that meant they absolutely were going to let him inside. Peryn felt bad for all the pilgrims. After all, they actually wanted to come see the place and never got past the front doors, while he was coming only because he was ordered to, and was going to get the full tour. It didn't seem fair.

And yet, after several days of climbing the mountain, here he was, the shadow of the monastery visible in the darkness. He had to admit, it was a beautiful sight. The aroura appeared behind the monastery, brightening the background like it was a fantastic painting instead of a real place.

Peryn saw a chest at the base of the stairs, and placed Klimmek's supplies in it. The man was doing a good thing, he thought, helping the Greybeards maintain their seclusion. He may not of thought of it as the best idea himself, staying isolated from the world, but they were monks, and anyone helping monks who worship good gods was doing good in Peryn's book.

He ascended the final stairs alone, having sent Lydia ahead to Whiterun. Something had told him that he should approach the Greybeards alone, as the Dragonborn they had summoned. The idea that he was a Nordic folk hero seemed bizarre to Peryn, though if pressed he would have had to admit that it was no more strange than the idea of dragons returning after more than an era. Either way, he felt as though the experience was supposed to humble him, and thought to that end that he probably ought not bring any help.

It was late enough that Peryn considered another night in the cold, but a string gust of wind blowing over the mountain convinced him to open the door and step inside.

The monks, it seemed, knew of his impending arrival. They were waiting, all four of them, in the main room behind the entryway.

"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age," said one as he made his way toward where Peryn was standing in the doorway. He appeared to be scrutinizing Peryn the entire time he was walking, and Peryn felt for some reason compelled to let it happen, and chose to wait until the monk was quite close to him before answering.

"I am answering your summons, Master Greybeard," Peryn said.

"We will see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your voice."

Peryn hesitated. "Do you mean…Shout at you?"

"Yes, exactly," the monk said. "If you can Shout, then we will know that you are Dragonborn."

Peryn shrugged mentally before Shouting at the man, the force causing him to stagger backwards.

"Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny.

Peryn smiled. "I am ready to learn."

10 Frostfall, Fredas, 4E201

With all due respect to the Greybeards, and Peryn felt they deserved quite a bit, he had no desire to go to Hjallmarch to dig around in an ancient tomb. Well, if he was being honest with himself, it was far more the trip across Skyrim that he was avoiding than the tomb. Wilhelm was very grateful to Peryn for handling that whole "haunting" business in the barrow just outside of town, thinking it might bring more pilgrims back to Ivarstead. Peryn still thought that nobody being able to actually get inside High Hrothgar might have something to do with it, but at least he understood the Greybeards' rationale. When most of the actual members can't talk without killing somebody and the acolytes aren't supposed to be talking at all, well, there isn't much point in showing people the tapestries.

Either way, Peryn now found himself in Riften, a decision he truly regretted. After an utterly pathetic attempt at a shakedown by the guards at the front gate, he quickly decided that Riften was a would-be den of villainy, except that everyone there was woefully incompetent. Except Mjoll. Peryn liked Mjoll. Sure, her attempts at cleaning the place up were going about as well as the rest of the citizen's attempts to make their city a crime-infested hellhole instead of just a hellhole, but she knew what she was doing, and she refused to take the fact that she was living in Maven Black-Briar's petty fiefdom lying down.

They were eating with Mjoll's Imperial friend Aerin in the Bee and Barb at the end of Peryn's first day in the city. Peryn had been complaining about the shakedown and a couple of would-be pickpockets that he almost gave money to simply out of pity—how could they possibly find food if they were so inept at thievery?—while Mjoll nodded her head and shared her own stories about the place. Only a few nights ago she and Aerin had awoken to the sounds of a thief rummaging through their kitchen. Apparently a few threats from Mjoll were enough to scare him off, but she was clearly annoyed by the ordeal. It struck Peryn as odd that she was more irate than worried after catching a thief in her home, but then, most people weren't Mjoll.

When he left Riften a few days later, the place was one skooma dealer to the bad. Well, bad for the skooma dealers. The Jarl had promised to look into what she could about his suppliers, and would send word once she found enough for Peryn to go on. He also had learned of Mjoll's sword, lost in a Dwemer ruin, though she made him promise not to go looking for it, just please see if it was there if he was in the area.

He planned to be in the area by the end of the year.

19 Frostfall, Sundas, 4E201

"Plan on settling down, my Thane?" Lydia asked, the joke clear in her eyes and her voice. Peryn huffed anyway.

"Having someplace to store things and a real bed doesn't count as settling down," he said, inserting the key of Breezehome into the lock. "And you can live here instead of haunting the city when you're not with me."

"I do not haunt the city," she said, indignantly.

"No, I suppose you're right," Peryn said, "Just Dragonsreach."

"Aye, Farengar did complain about how much I was milling about his lab. Told me he was starting to wish for a tavern wench for a sister."

Peryn snorted, earning himself a smack. "You stop that," Lydia said. "I'd make a damn good tavern wench, if I weren't so handy with a sword."

"Oh, you'd still be handy with a sword," Peryn said mildy, causing Lydia to groan and roll her eyes.

"Gods above why do I even try?" she asked.

When they got inside, Peryn immediately go to work, determining which things they had picked up should be kept, which could be sold, and to whom. Eventually, he set out for the market after sending Lydia up to Dragonsreach to get Proventus to arrange for some actual furniture to be delivered while they were away. He was glad that his purse felt heavier even after all of that by the time he was done at the market. Belethor had been as much of an ass as usual, trying to haggle him down within an inch of his life, but eventually even the irritable Bosmer was won over by the chance to sell real, genuine dragon bones. Not that Peryn didn't secretly think he would probably have started selling fakes sooner or later.

As Peryn was leaving the market, he heard someone shouting in his general direction. He turned to find the voice, and saw a completely exhausted Legionnaire running toward him.

"Oh, sir, hope I'm not bothering you," he said, barely keeping himself from panting the words.

"You're not, but I'm going to guess I wouldn't care if you were. What do you need?" Peryn asked.

"I have a letter for you from Legate Rikke, sir," the Legionnaire said.

"Then I assume it's important. Come with me, I live just down this road here."

The two of them walked to Breezehome, where they met Lydia coming back from Dragonsreach. Peryn ushered the Legionnaire inside.

"Sorry this place is a bit of a mess," he said. "I just bought it today, and haven't had much time to get it ready, but it's more private than the street."

"Of course, sir," the Nord said. Peryn looked him over. He was young, probably a new recruit. Though he supposed that was obvious. New recruits were the only ones forced into courier duty. Though he tried to hide it, Peryn noticed the man had a slight shake in his hand. Probably nervous about delivering anything from Rikke.

"What's your name?" Peryn asked as he accepted the letter.

"Deor Alensen, sir," he said. "I just joined up recently."

"Where are you from, Deor?" Peryn asked, searching for something he could use to open the letter. He eventually found a knife in one of the drawers, something left over from the previous owner.

"Dawnstar, sir."

"No need for the 'sirs' with me. And certainly not here," Peryn said. "Now let's see what Rikke wants from me."

Auxillary,

Something urgent has come up, and I need you to return to Solitude as quickly as you are able. The courier delivering this letter will have come on a horse, which you may take for your ride back. I cannot say more in this letter in the event that it falls into enemy hands, but I need to express the urgency required by this situation.

Gods guide you,

Rikke

"She wants us in Solitude as fast as we can get there," Peryn told Lydia. "Deor, where's this horse she mentioned?"

"At the gate," he responded. "I was given enough money to hire a carriage to Solitude for the way back."

Peryn looked out the window, and swore when he saw the sun was setting. "Well," he said, "We can't go anywhere tonight, so how's a drink?"

23 Frostfall, Turdas, 4E201

Hadvar was called up to Castle Dour from his post at the gate. The orders came from the top, or so he was told. Not that he minded much. Being called to the castle meant he was going to be involved in something interesting. The last time it had happened, he'd ended up in Helgen. Not that he wanted to see another dragon anytime soon, but that was about as interesting as things got. And he'd gotten a friend out of the deal, too.

Hadvar was a little surprised at how quickly he'd come to consider Peryn one of the people he was closest to, but he supposed that a large part of that was escaping from a dragon together, and then killing a fort full of bandits. He had been thinking about the Breton lately, wondering what he'd been up to in the month or so since they'd cleared Fort Hraggstad. As he opened the door, he wondered if he should ask Rikke if she'd heard any news.

He took one look around and shut it again extremely quickly. Laughter echoed through the closed door. "Come back in, Hadvar," Tullius called. Hadvar opened the door and walked in sheepishly. Peryn was doubled over by the wall, shaking with laughter. Rikke looked as though her birthday had come early, and the General looked ready to throttle them both.

"Now, once these two are ready to act like adults…" he began.

"Sorry, sir," Peryn said, no longer laughing out loud, but still shaking. Rikke had managed to contain her smile into something resembling a smirk instead of the almost comically wide one that she'd had a few seconds before.

"Why did you look like you'd just seen a ghost?" Peryn asked. "Your face, gods your face…" and he was laughing uncontrollably again.

"Oh, uh, I'd…I'd just been thinking about you when I walked in is all. Wondered what you'd been up to, and then you're right here. Bit of a shock is all."

"Aw, you missed me?" Peryn asked, somehow coming across as innocent. A cough brought them out of their sidebar.

"Rikke, tell everyone why we're even here." Tullius said, clearly irate. "And tell me again why I'm wasting men chasing after a fairy tale, especially these two."

"I've told you General, if Ulfric gets his hands on that crown, it won't be a fairy tale. It'll be a problem," Rikke said, sounding as though she'd had this conversation before. Hadvar wouldn't be surprised if she had. Tullius was a good soldier, and trusted Rikke's judgement, but not before he fourth and fifth guessed her, especially on something that seemed odd.

"Don't you Nords put any stock in your own traditions? I thought the Moot chose the king. We're backing Elisif. When the Moot meets, they'll do the sensible thing." The General was obviously frustrated, though Hadvar was unaware that there were any plans for a Moot. Indeed, that was rather the point of the civil war, as he saw it.

Rikke sighed. "You knows as well as I do that not everybody has agreed to the Moot. And you've beem here long enough to know that Nords aren't always sensible. We follow our hearts."

Rikke certainly had that one right, Hadvar thought. There was a lot of stuff he'd done that he probably shouldn't have, when he thought back on it. But even still, he couldn't sit around and wait for his brain to tell him exactly what to do. If something felt like it needed to be done, it was. Even joining the Legion was on a bit of a whim, almost ten years ago when he'd had a fight with his uncle. Alvor was even madder at first, having lost his brother, Hadvar's other uncle, during the Great War. He eventually became proud of Hadvar's decision, but not after a couple of years of coming around to it. That was probably him thinking with his heart, too.

Hadvar was dragged out of his reminiscing when he heard Tullius and Rikke fall silent. Whatever they had been arguing about had been, at least temporarily, smoothed over.

"If you insist on taking these two, make sure you send them back when you find nothing but old bones and cobwebs," Tullius muttered darkly, walking out of the room. "I have useful things we could be doing if we drag them here."

Rikke sighed. "Listen up. Ulfric's right-hand man, Galmar Stonefist, has located what he believes is the final resting place of the Jagged Crown. We're going to make sure he doesn't get his hands on it. A team is assembling near Korvanjund to get it, and we're the last pieces."

"Sorry," Peryn said. "Breton here. What the hell is the Jagged Crown and why do we need to keep it away from the Stormcloaks?"

"The Jagged Crown is a legendary crown, dating back to King Harald's time, or before. A powerful relic of a golden age, long since passed. Legend has it that the crown is made from the bones and teeth of ancient dragons, and it's said to increase the power of the wielder. Whatever the truth, if Ulfric gets his hands on it, it would be a powerful symbol around which to rally support for his cause," Rikke said. "That means we can't let him have it. Any chance he has to gain legitimacy is a chance to get more Nords to join his cause."

"And how do we know the crown is in Korvanjund?"

Rikke sighed. "That's what the General doesn't like. We have no idea if it's there, Its location was lost with King Borgas, when the Great Hunt killed him while off on his Alessian campaigns. Supposedly, his body was brought back to Skyrim and secretly buried with the crown. Knowledge of that location was lost during the Wars of Succession. But my agents report that Galmar is pretty damned convinced Korvanjund is the tomb of King Borgas. I know Galmar. We fought in many wars together. He's not a sentimental man taken to fancy. If he believes the crown is there...he's likely found it. But if he's tricking us, then my men in Windhelm are in danger, and we've wasted vital resources chasing after nothing."

She paused, waiting for any other questions. "Then we should get moving as soon as possible," she said, hearing none. "Auxiliary, is your sworn sword in the area?"

"Lydia?" Peryn asked. "Aye, she's at the inn near the gate. The Winking Skeever, I think it's called."

"Good. We'll need her help. Make any preparations you need to, then meet me at the gate. That goes for you as well, Hadvar."

26 Frostfall, Sundas, 4E201

Hadvar never much liked being around the old Nordic ruins. Not that they scared him, except the one that looked over Riverwood, it just felt…wrong, to be digging around in the tombs of someone's ancestors.

He noticed Peryn was watching him with an expression that Hadvar thought was supposed to express concern, but there was something else there mixed in that made Peryn look at peace.

"I'm glad you'll be with me in there. I don't like the looks of this place... and I'm not talking about the Stormcloaks," Hadvar said, reaching out to place his hand on Peryn's back.

Peryn nodded. "I know what you mean about these old ruins. Something just feels off every time I'm in one."

"You too, huh?" Hadvar said. He let out a bitter chuckle. "I'd much rather a straight up fight than sneaking around in a place like this, but I'm guessing we'll get one of those soon enough. But never mind that. We're the Emperor's soldiers. We'll do our duty no matter what stands in our way."

They turned to listen to Rikke as she began to speak. "Listen up, legionnaires. Those Stormcloaks are here for the same reason we are. Ulfric the Pretender wants that crown, but we're not going to let him have it." She paused, and when she continued, her voice was tinged with sorrow. "I realize some of you may know men on the other side. But remember this. They are the enemy now and will not hesitate to end your lives either. General Tullius is counting on us to bring back the Jagged Crown, and that's exactly what we're going to do. Let's show these rebels what real soldiers look like."

The Stormcloaks outside the fort never saw them coming. The eight Legionnaires killed almost a dozen without losing a single man, the Stormcloaks taken aback as arrows and flames rained down on them. The other Imperial soldiers were clearly unnerved at Peryn's summoned companion, though Hadvar felt more at ease. He'd fought with the Atronach before, when clearing out Fort Hraggstad, and he trusted Peryn enough to not worry about her fire being turned on him. And besides, asking a Breton not to use magic was like asking an elf to become a swordsman. It went against their nature.

Hadvar wondered why Rikke hadn't brought any other mages on this trip. Perhaps Tullius wasn't willing to give her any of the Legion's other spellswords on what he felt was a foolish venture.

The two sentries were shot dead before they could notice anything was wrong.

Hadvar gained a new appreciation for archery when Peryn's skill with a bow thwarted a Stormcloak ambush by shooting them from above. There was something very useful about being able to kill an enemy who wasn't able to do anything in retaliation, even if it did bother his sense of honor a little bit. Though an ambush was even worse for his sense of honor, and even more effective at killing, so maybe it wasn't as important in war as in other times.

Hadvar was happy to note that he was less disturbed by the dragur than the other Imperial soldiers. He may not like the things, but at least he didn't turn pale like one of the archers and at least a couple swordsmen.

"This is the last one," Peryn said, looking down at a Stormcloak's corpse in the Hall of Stories.

"How do you know?" Rikke asked.

"They never were able to open this door. The Crown will be down there, if it's here at all. So we know they both don't have it, and are all dead."

"So that's good news," one of the swordsmen said, hopefully.

Peryn chuckled darkly. "Oh, no, it's hardly news at all. We've still got enemies to kill down there, they're just undead now."

The man blanched.

Peryn had been right about the dragur. There were several that came out to attack them, including a set that had them surrounded with anyone knowing about it. Peryn had been unable to help, as he was looking for a way to open the door, though Lydia was able to react quickly and prevent most of them from being overwhelmed. One of the swordsmen had been between two when they had appeared, falling with a scream before anyone could react. Thanks to Lydia, everyone else was fine. She had taken a serious beating though, her armor only doing so much to protect her.

Peryn healed her with some magic, and then sent her back to the entrance. She protested until Peryn told her to pick up her sword. The difficulty she was having holding it was obvious to everyone, and Lydia, knowing when she was beat, told everyone she'd skin them alive if anything happened to Peryn while she was gone.

"We'll have to come back for the body," Rikke said, trying to appear composed. Everyone murmured in agreement, but nobody was happy with the idea.

The throne room was something to behold. There almost seemed to be no back wall, just an endless expanse of power. Everyone paused to admire their surroundings. Hadvar did the same, walking slowly toward the throne in the center of the room. There was something sitting on it, and on its head….

"Hey, I found a crown over here on this corpse. Is this the one we're looking for?" he asked, walking up to the throne. Hadvar noticed two things at once. The first was that the dragur was…standing up? The second was Peryn's voice calling his name with what sounded like absolute panic.

Hadvar stood, paralyzed, as the dragur stood up to its full height and raised an axe at him.

"Hadvar! Get away from there!" Rikke shouted, then gasped as more dragur appeared from the walls.

Hadvar barely had time to stumble backwards before the dragur was hit with a blast of fire. In the second it staggered back, Peryn launched himself at it and attacked with his sword with more ferocity than Hadvar had seen before. The dragur was taken by surprise at first, but recovered after the first couple of hits.

Peryn responded to the dragur's recovery by holding up his sword and…Shouting. Not a war cry, not a scream, but something he'd never heard before. The dragur was knocked back against its throne, and Peryn took its head off in one savage swing.

Hadvar barely had time to process that it was dead before Peryn flung his arms around him. "Don't you ever fucking dare scare me like that again," he said, though the effect of the words wasn't nearly as strong as it might have been had he not been pressing his head into Hadvar's chest.

Hadvar would never admit it, but his eyes began to water, just a little, and his voice had stopped working. He settled for just putting his arms around Peryn and thanking the gods that he'd been in that cart in Helgen.


	4. Proper Nord Society

31 Frostfall, Fredas, 4E201

Rikke allowed Hadvar to accompany Peryn and Lydia back to Whiterun. Peryn was glad for the help, especially when they ran into a bear. Lydia was nearly useless, and in fact ended up hurting her leg during the fight. They were fortunately only a day from the city at that point, even with Lydia's injuries. When they reached Peryn's house, he sent her to bed with orders not to get up while he was gone. "And I mean it. An order, Lydia!"

Hadvar didn't think she'd be following that order too well, but she acted like she was going to stay down while Peryn was in the house. He hadn't known Peryn had a house in Whiterun, or anywhere for that matter. He was from High Rock, and had only been in Skyrim for a couple of months.

"How long have you been hiding this place?" he asked, once Lydia was settled in.

"Only about a week," Peryn said with a shrug, looking around and tidying up. Hadvar didn't see much that needed tidying, but Peryn found one thing after another that was slightly out of place for his liking. "I got Rikke's letter the day I bought the place, so I haven't been able to really live in it yet. Haven't even slept in my own bed."

"It looks like a nice little place," Hadvar said.

"That's probably Proventus," Peryn said. "When I was here last we were dusting cobwebs off everything. He said he'd help get the place furnished, and I was conveniently away for the last few days." He turned to look at Hadvar. "You know, you're welcome to stay here for a couple days before heading back to Solitude. I don't think Rikke would notice."

Hadvar had to admit that a couple days off did sound nice.

"Besides," Peryn said, noticing the mixture of hesitation and longing on Hadvar's face, "We just found an artifact that's been missing since the First Era. I think we've earned ourselves a break before we report in."

Hadvar doubted that Rikke would see it that way, but he agreed anyway. If nothing else, he could use some of that goodwill that he'd probably gotten for bringing Peryn into the Legion.

"We should probably go and tell Lydia's brother that she's laid up. He might want to come harass her and generally cause trouble while she can't get back at him."

Hadvar had expected Lydia's brother to live near Peryn, somewhere in the Plains district, or perhaps on a farm outside the gates. He was not expecting to have to wait for him to finish talking to the Jarl. Hadvar had never been in Dragonsreach before, and he felt incredibly out of place. It was a little silly, he thought. After all, he wasn't uncomfortable in Castle Dour, and that was the Emperor's residence when he came to Skyrim, though he hadn't done that since before Hadvar joined the Legion.

"My Jarl," said the Dark Elf who stood next to the Jarl's throne, "Your Thane is trying not to be seen by the door." Hadvar got the distinct impression that she wasn't talking for the Jarl's benefit. But did her hear her correctly? Peryn was a Thane? What had he done to earn that?

"Come here, Peryn," the Jarl said, voice full of warmth. "It's been a while since you've made the trip up to Dragonsreach. I was hoping I might see more of you now that you live in the city."

"It's actually not you I'm here to see," Peryn said, a note of apology in his voice. "I need Farengar."

"Me?" asked the man who had been talking to the Jarl. "What in Oblivion do you need me for?"

"Lydia's gotten banged up pretty bad. I don't know a whole lot of Restoration magic that works beyond you-won't-die-yet, so she's going to be cooped up in Breezehome for a couple days. Thought you'd want to know."

"Hm," Hadvar noticed the man was in mage robes, so he was probably the Court Wizard. "Well, there's not much I can do for her injuries, and she probably wouldn't be terribly happy to see me."

"Nonsense," Peryn said with a little laugh, "She'd love a new punching bag. I get old fast."

"Perhaps I'll go and see her," the Jarl said. "I do feel some responsibility for her, since she is a part of my court."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you," Peryn said, and Farengar added his agreement.

"Now, perhaps you'd care to enlighten me as to why you and your companion are in Legionnaire's armor?" the Jarl asked.

"It's not that complicated," Peryn said with a shrug. "We're Legionnaires. Just got back from doing some work for the Legion, and I wore the armor they gave me since the Legion is big on protocol."

"So you picked a side in this war," the Jarl said. Hadvar noticed that his tone was very controlled, as though he had an opinion on the subject that he didn't quite want made known yet.

"I did, my Jarl," Peryn said. "I don't think the Stormcloaks are daedra, but I know where I stand. This city, and you, have earned my loyalty, but until I must do otherwise, I will fight for my Empire."

"I hope that my city never needs to call on you to break your oath," the Jarl said.

"As do I."

They spent the next day re-arranging Breezhome to Peryn's liking. Proventus had done well enough setting the place up, but Peryn kept finding something or other that wasn't quite right. Besides, he figured that spending most of the day in the house was probably a good thing, in case something happened that made Lydia's injuries worse. Peryn knew she would try to be up and moving as soon as possible, maybe sooner than she should, and he didn't want to encourage that by leaving her to her own devices for too long.

They hadn't realized just how hard re-arranging would be when they'd started, and by the time they were finished, Hadvar's room being the last to get a makeover, they were breathing heavily and dripping with sweat.

Peryn had never seen Hadvar out of his armor before. It was a little strange. Most people he knew he knew as either soldier or civilian, even though nearly every soldier had a civilian side and most civilians had enough soldier in them to at least cobble together a militia when needed. Farkas was a soldier, his mother was a civilian, Rikke was a soldier, Proventus was a civilian. He never saw soldiers act like civilians and civilians act like soldiers: he never stuck around long enough to see both sides. Even Lydia was almost entirely a soldier.

Peryn had known Hadvar as a soldier for a while now, and now he was getting to see him as a civilian. The shirt he wore was dirty and faded, but it still looked as though it had been taken care of. Peryn thought for a second that it wasn't fair how Hadvar could look even more muscular out of his armor (he had been enough sets to know that the padding helped make muscles look bigger), but he also was amazed at how easily the soldier became the civilian, how relaxed and domestic Hadvar looked.

He could get used to seeing civilian Hadvar.

"We're going where for a drink?" Hadvar asked. Peryn looked up from putting away some shopping he'd gotten at the market before it closed.

"Jorrvaskr," he said. "One of the Companions was at the market, told me to come up while I was in town."

"You know the Companions?" Hadvar asked.

"I am a Companion," Peryn said. Hadvar gaped. "What? It's true! Joined just after I killed a dragon at the watchtower."

Hadvar decided that he definitely needed a drink or several tonight. "There's a story I need to hear," he said. "Probably several."

"Well, after I came up here to tell the Jarl about the dragon, some of the watchmen reported a dragon sighting at the western watchtower. It had already killed the garrison by the time we got there, and we killed it. That's why I'm Thane of Whiterun."

"I was going to ask about that," Hadvar said.

"I'd helped the Companions kill a giant outside the city, and when they heard about the dragon, they went into full recruitment mode," Peryn continued. "I haven't been back after that first day, but they seemed like they understood I wasn't able to stick around very much."

"Gods," Hadvar said. "I've lived in this Hold damn near my whole life and you've had more excitement here in a few weeks than I have in years."

"I wouldn't mind some peace and quiet," Peryn said darkly. "It feels like someone's always needed something since I got here."

They turned up in time for a feast, instead of just a drink. When Farkas saw him down in the city, Peryn felt like he couldn't avoid coming back to Jorrvaskr, even though he felt awkward there, not really knowing anybody. Still, he couldn't avoid them forever, even if he wanted to, which he honestly didn't. He liked Whitemane, Farkas and Vilkas, Aela, Ria, and a couple other whelps like himself he'd met his last time here. Though while he was pretty sure Farkas liked him, everyone else seemed skeptical of him at best. There were also certainly some members he could do without, but that was every group of people.

Peryn and Hadvar sat with Farkas and Vilkas, and Peryn decided, after he and Vilkas provided most of the conversation, that Vilkas probably did like him after all. He wasn't surprised that he and Vilkas were doing most of the talking. Farkas was much quieter than his brother. Hadvar also had never been the most talkative, but he was almost completely silent, and Peryn kept glancing over to make sure he was doing alright. The couple of times he was noticed, Hadvar just waved him off with a glance. Peryn figured he was probably just overwhelmed by being in Jorrvaskr. As the night wore on, and he got some mead in him, Hadvar began to loosen up a little bit and look more comfortable.

As the rest of the Companions left, the four of them insisted on helping Tilma clean up. She tried to tell them that she could handle it, but none of them bought it. Vilkas and Hadvar were outside, bringing water from the well to wash the plates and serving dishes. Peryn and Farkas were cleaning the table itself with some kind of foul-smelling soap the Tilma swore by.

"So, your guest," Farkas said. Peryn gave him a funny look.

"What about him?" he asked.

"He's a fine catch. When are you going to take him to Riften?"

"Oh, we're…we're not," Peryn said lamely, waving his hands in lieu of an explanation.

"Oh, good," Farkas said. "So I can go and see about staking my own claim then."

"No!" Peryn immediately regretted how loud he was. "I mean, uh, that doesn't seem like the best idea, what with Vilkas being there and all."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Farkas said, not mentioning the force behind Peryn's objection. "My brother wouldn't be too happy about it. He's probably out there making a move himself."

Peryn thought he did an admirable job of trying to not rush outside immediately to make sure that wasn't happening. It only partially worked, and he ended up tripping over his own feet in an attempt to stay still.

Farkas burst out laughing as Peryn fell to the floor in a heap. "Don't worry. I saw the way you were looking at him all night. I won't try anything. And Vilkas doesn't like men, not unless he's been hiding that from me for years."

Peryn glared up at him from his place on the floor. "You're evil, you know that?"

"Only because you make it so fun," Farkas said.

Farkas had a small smile on his face the entire time his brother kept Peryn talking after the cleaning was done. He limited his involvement in that conversation to a few comments and looks that were guaranteed to make him flustered. The Breton was in a hurry to get out of Jorrvsakr very soon.

"He was so talkative earlier tonight," Vilkas said as they went downstairs. "What on Earth did you do to him?"  
"Me?" Farkas asked, feigning innocence. "We just talked, is all."

Vilkas looked doubtful. "I hope he sticks around sometime. He's good company, and a good fighter, from what I've seen."

"I do, too," Farkas said, "But he still needs to have his test. I'll take him when we've got one."

Vilkas stopped where they always did, at the place where the hall branched. One brother would go left, one right, but they always talked for a minute before that happened. He looked at Farkas for a moment, studying him. Farkas never liked that look. His brother could see through people easily, and was too smart and knew him too well to fool.

"You're interested in him." Vilkas said, sounding more like an accusation than a statement of fact. "Gods, don't tell me you tried to pull anything while I was gone and scared him away."  
Farkas threw up his hands, turning red. "I didn't, I swear. Besides, he's completely lost to the man he had with him. It's just a matter of time before they end up in Riften, mark my words."

"So long as you don't lose us a good Companion," Vilkas said.

"Have faith, brother," Farkas said. He paused, then added, "Gods, I feel restless."

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not worth it," Vilkas snapped. "You need to resist the temptation."

Farkas nodded before turning to go to his room.

Lydia was up walking the next morning. Peryn thought it wise for her to take her recovery slowly, but she protested enough that he decided to not say anything when she came down the ladder for breakfast.

"I appreciate you letting me stay a couple days, but I should get back to Solitude soon," Hadvar said. "I don't want Rikke biting my head off."

"Don't worry about Rikke," Peryn said. "I sent a letter the day we got here telling her that we could come back as soon as she needed us to, but we were going to wait until she asked for us to give Lydia some time to heal."

Lydia huffed. Peryn could tell she didn't like being fussed over, even as a pretense. He shot her a look. "Hopefully we'll get a response in the next couple of days. And, if she gives us a few days, Farkas told me about a bandit camp that needs clearing out south of Riverwood."

"You think we should take the excuse to go down there," Hadvar said, not as a question.

"If you don't want an excuse to see your family, we don't have to," Peryn said with a shrug. "I thought you would, though."

6 Sun's Dusk, Turdas 4E201

They reached Riverwood around midday. It was colder than it had been the last time Peryn was here, and the remains of a small snow from the night before were visible on the ground. Hadvar seemed to brighten a little as they entered the town. Peryn made a mental note to thank Farkas next time he saw him.

They made their way to the smithy first, steps falling into the rhythm of Alvor's hammer. Lydia ducked off to the Sleeping Giant to get a room. Peryn got a strange sense of having done this before as he followed Hadvar up the steps to the forge.

Dorthe saw them first. She let out a shriek and ran over to them.

"Hadvar!" she said as he lifted her up.

"Hey, Dor," he said. "You miss me?"

"It's been forever since you've been back," Dorthe said, giggling.

"Forever? I was here a couple months ago!"

"Aye," Alvor said, coming over from the forge. "And now you're here out of your Legion armor. Hopefully that's not a sign of bad news."

"No," Hadvar said, shaking his head. "Peryn just thought it might be safer to come in armor that wouldn't cause some people to attack us on sight."

"Ah, you're here too," Alvor said, turning to Peryn. "Thank you again for getting word to the Jarl about the dragon. The troops here have helped everyone sleep a little easier."

"A bit more came of that, too," Hadvar said, elbowing Peryn lightly.

Peryn chose to ignore the questioning look Alvor gave. It was replaced by a soft smile, and he groaned mentally. He knew exactly what that smile meant, and it was all wrong.

"What brings you two to Riverwood?" Alvor asked. "Anything important to tell us?"  
Peryn shook his head. "We're here on Companions business," he said. "There's apparently some bandits holed up in a mine south of town."

"Aye, I'd heard about them," Alvor said. "But the Companions! That's moving up in the world for someone who just got to Skyrim."

"I'm afraid we can't stay long," Hadvar said. "We need to be back in Solitude in a couple weeks."

"We? So you joined up, then," Alvor said, an approving tone in his voice.

"I did," Peryn said.

"A couple other things happened," Hadvar said, completely unable to keep himself from grinning. Peryn wondered how badly things would end if he kissed that grin off his face.

He settled for groaning, instead. "Gods above, you clearly want to brag for me."

"It's exciting!" he said.

Peryn sighed. "You see what I have to deal with, Dorthe? You should be glad Hadvar isn't around." She giggled again.

"Go inside and tell your mother that Hadvar and his friend are back," Alvor said. Dorthe nodded and ran inside the house.

"I'm really happy for you two, honest," Alvor said. "Don't be afraid of what you have."

Peryn wished that dragon had come down when his head was nice and removed from his body. It would have made things much easier. Hadvar, meanwhile, looked completely bewildered.

"What Hadvar's been so giddy over is the fact that, because of a dragon that I killed, I am now Thane of Whiterun," Peryn said, hoping that Alvor never had another thought about him and Hadvar again.

Alvor looked taken aback for a second. "That is a great honor. I'm sure you'll represent this hold well."

They left for the mine the next morning, Lydia in tow. Alvor and Sigrid had insisted that they come for dinner, and were scandalized by the idea of Peryn and Lydia sleeping at the inn. Hadvar had to remind them that there weren't enough beds for all of them at the house.

Alvor told them what he knew about the mine before they left. It had been an iron mine before the war, the type of place he'd expected to be fought over because of its strategic importance. Instead, it was abandoned, and the new inhabitants both mined for ore and attacked merchants using the roads.

The bandits were not expecting visitors, and were far enough away from one another than one good archer could have made his way through the mine with little trouble. With three, it was practically target practice.

They slipped back into Riverwood in the dead of night, earning a wary look from the guard standing watch at the gate. Nobody could blame her for being on edge. Dragons and civil war both made for a bad time to be on the night shift, alone with your thoughts. Too easy to worry about the worst that could happen, and how you were the only defense of a lot of people.

Peryn sent Lydia ahead to the Sleeping Giant and watched the river for a few minutes before he slipped into Sigrid and Alvor's house. Dorthe woke up as he closed the door behind him. Peryn pressed a finger to his lips before creeping over to her bed.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked. She nodded. Peryn pulled a small pouch from the pocket of his tunic.

"Give this to your parents once Hadvar and I are out of town," he said. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

Dorthe took the pouch and felt the heavy weight of gold. Her eyes widened, but Peryn just smiled and made his way to the door, giving her once last glance before he stepped out into the night. He had told them he wasn't going to let them feed him for free.

20 Sun's Dusk, Turdas, 4E201

The tired chatter of soldiers filled the courtyard as Hadvar sat to catch his breath. Aldis had put him on training duty for the new recruits, the ones who'd just gotten past how to hold a sword and were now learning how to use them. He'd sparred more in one day than he had fought since Helgen, even if he was constantly stopping to demonstrate proper footwork. Right now, he wanted nothing more than a bed.

Peryn was waiting for him in the barracks, looking about as bad as Hadvar felt. He'd been sent to let the battlemages get a test of his magical abilities, and they'd apparently been exhaustingly through. He looked up by way of greeting.

"That bad, huh?" Hadvar asked.

"They're damned good mages," Peryn said. "Better than me, that's for sure. How were your students?"

Hadvar searched for a word that could describe the level of inept and eager. "That bad, huh?" Peryn asked when he couldn't find one.

"Gods know I was probably that bad once, but it's been a while," he said. "Course, I have a decade in the Legion on them, so I guess it's not that surprising that they aren't great. And these are the ones who didn't know how to fight before they enlisted."

They ate in silence after that, too tired to say anything. Other Legionnaires came and went from the table, earning a nod in greeting and nothing more. Only some had the energy to return the kindness.

"Any idea how long Aldis is going to have you on training duty?" Peryn asked.

"I didn't ask."

"I need to go to Hjallmarch once I can't stand being here anymore," Peryn said. "If you're able to come, you'd be a big help, especially with Lydia in Whiterun."

Hadvar gave him a look. "Are we talking tomorrow, next week, or what?"

"If they're especially tolerable, a month," Peryn said. "No way I'll need to go before the beginning of Evening Star."

Hadvar rolled his eyes. Peryn was a good fighter, but Talos knew why he joined the Legion if he couldn't promise being able to be around the other soldiers for more than a month at a time. But then, he had learned that fighting skill somewhere, and wherever it was probably didn't have as strict a hierarchy and as much a love for discipline as the Imperial Legion.

Really, in the three months he had known Peryn, he had seemed like someone who was most comfortable on the road, moving from place to place and not staying long. Hadvar couldn't figure out why Peryn would choose now to decide to do something akin to settling down. He was still young, still new to Skyrim, and still could make a good living as an adventurer or a mercenary. He did more of those, even now that he'd joined the Legion, than actual soldiery.

"Septim for your thoughts?" Peryn asked.

"It's nothing," Hadvar said. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

Hadvar paused and took a breath. "I'm not entirely sure you know what you signed up for," he said. "Just wondering if you'll be able to stay in the Legion."

Peryn sighed. "I'm not a soldier. I'll admit that. But I joined because I want to be of whatever help I can in the war, even if that's less fighting in big battles and more ambushes and supply raiding. Rikke and General Tullius can make use of me somehow. After that?" he shrugged. "I don't know."

He looked up, eyes looking right into Hadvar's. "Some people were born for this. You were. I wasn't."


	5. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller

16 Evening Star, Tirdas, 4E201

It had taken awhile, but Peryn couldn't take any more training in Solitude. Aldis had been thoughtful enough to spread his training between the magic and martial sides of the Legion, but he'd finally gotten sick of both the woman in charge of the Legion's battlemages and the Tribune who he reported to when he was on archery days.

He figured that Captain Aldis would be more willing to give him a couple days for something close by, so he decided now was as good a time as any to go digging around for an old war-horn in the tomb of some long dead Nord. It had been a while since the Greybeards asked him to fetch it, and he didn't want to seem overly disrespectful. He actually liked the Greybeards. There was just a lot going on.

"Excuse me, sir," Peryn said, slightly out of breath, having run to catch Aldis before he retired to Castle Dour for the night.

"Auxiliary," he said, with a small nod. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, the Greybeards have asked me to travel to the tomb of their founder in Hjallmarch. I was hoping for leave so I can do so."

Few in the Legion, only Tullius, Rikke, and Aldis, knew of Peryn's status as Dragonborn. He didn't want it to be something that affected how the others thought of him, or earned him any special treatment. But his commanding officers needed to know, in case something came up, and he supposed he'd given away the secret to a few men in Korvanjund accidently, if they'd been paying attention to the news of a Dragonborn. Shouting wasn't exactly a common talent, even in Skyrim. It wasn't something he wanted particularly known, either way.

"I'm going to guess you had time to do this before reporting?" Aldis asked, though his dry tone was offset by the slight smirk he gave at Peryn's guilty look.

"Of course, Dragonborn. You may do what the Greybeards ask. I've heard nothing but glowing reports from Tribune Moorton about your performance, and I've heard good things from the range and seen good things in the yard. I understand that you have a lot to juggle, and the Legion appreciates your service, especially if you make a good soldier."

"Thank you, sir," Peryn said.

"I assume you'll want to take Hadvar with you? You two seem to be joined at the hip these days."

"If you're offering, I'll gladly take him," Peryn said, shrugging slightly.

"He's yours. Now go get ready so you can get back here. And try not to spend too much time at that monastery."

"Sir," Peryn said, turning to leave.

He found Hadvar sharpening his sword near Beirand's forge. "Hadvar!" he said, leaning against the wall.

"Hello," Hadvar said, looking up from his work. "Something you need?"

"How do you feel about a trip?" Peryn asked, putting on some extra enthusiasm. Hadvar clearly didn't buy it, and rolled his eyes as he answered.

"Where to?"

"Oh, just a little place in Hjallmarch, nothing big."

"Nothing in Hjallmarch is big," Hadvar grumbled. "But most places there are full of nasty things." He narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to drag me to a tomb, aren't you? You know what I think about creeping around in tombs."

"Uh…yeah," Peryn said. "Not just any tomb, either. The tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, Ustengrav."

"I have absolutely no idea who that is," Hadvar said. "I'm guessing he was pretty important?"

"He founded the Greybeards," Peryn said.

"Gods, you're running errands for the Greybeards?" Hadvar shook his head. "Who in Oblivion don't you know?"

"Well," Peryn said, "I haven't summoned any Daedric Princes, so there's that."

A Khajiit caravan had set up outside the gates overnight. If there was one thing about Skyrim that Peryn still couldn't abide, it was the general Nordic sense of superiority. Really, only the Altmer were worse than the Nords when it came to thinking they were the gods' gift to Mundus. Not allowing the cats into the city was only the worst of the prejudice he'd seen in the province, though Mjoll had assured him that the war was making things worse than they'd been only a few years prior. She'd also warned him to stay away from the Reach. Bretons weren't much liked there, apparently.

He made a point to make small talk with the caravan guards. They were friendly enough for hired swords, but one told Peryn they were all on edge from a bandit attack the night before.

"One of them stole my Moon amulet, given to me by my mother when I was just a cub" the guard, Kharjo, said with a hiss. "It is my only memory of home in this cold land. We believe they are headquartered in a place called Ustengrav. Be careful if the moons guide you nearby."

"We are going to Ustengrav," Peryn said. "We're traveling that way already. I will make sure we find your amulet while we are there. How long will the caravan be here?"

"You are kind to offer. But be careful. I miss my amulet, but a life cannot be replaced as easily. The caravan departs for Windhelm on the Turdas morn eight days from now. If we must depart before your return, we travel the roads from Solitude to Windhelm."

19 Evening Star, Fredas 4E201

Hadvar heard the clatter of a sword being thrown against the wall, and then heard Peryn start shouting. "Gods damn you, you worthless piece of echatere shit!"

He ran into the room where Peryn stood, holding a piece of paper in his hands.

"Somebody else has the horn," he said. "Whoever it is left me this letter."

"What's it say?" Hadvar asked.

"I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. Signed, 'A friend'. " Peryn read. "I'm going to have a word or two for whoever took that horn."

Something seemed off about that note to Hadvar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Why did they leave you a note?" he asked.

Peryn glanced at the wall for a second in a way that made Hadvar very suspicious. "Probably not me so much as whoever the Greybeards sent," he said. Hadvar caught Peryn's eye. He looked guilty as the damned, although Hadvar decided not to press. Peryn would give him a real explanation when he was ready to, and Hadvar figured it would be a good one.

"Well," he said, "At least we have that cat's amulet."

23 Evening Star, Tirdas, 4E201

"For the first time in my life, I'm going to give an order that you're free to refuse," Tullius said. "I need someone I trust to deliver a message to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun."

"I appreciate the trust, but why me?" Peryn asked.

"We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion's support. This missive should convince him. I know the Jarl trusts you, and I think you could help convince him if he's still reluctant."

Peryn wrung his hands. "You're asking me to use my position for the Legion's benefit." It sounded like a betrayal of the man who'd helped him most in the months he'd been in Skyrim.

"Yes," Tullius sighed. "That's why I'm not forcing you to do this. It sounds bad when you actually say it out loud."

"I'm going to guess that someone else will take it if I don't?" Peryn asked. Tullius nodded. "Then give it to me. I'm not happy about doing this, but I will."

"Thank you. I know you just got back, so I'll let Captain Aldis know you'll be gone again. No need to report in if you haven't already."

"Well, Kharjo, it looks like I'm going to need your help right away," Peryn said.

"I will gladly accompany you, friend," the Kajhit said. "Where are we going?"

"I need to go to Whiterun," Peryn told him. "But you and my friend here are going to Riverwood. Someone left me a letter telling me to rent the attic room at the inn there. I don't know who, or why."

"Hm. That smells of a trap."

"Which is why I'm asking you to go with Hadvar," Peryn said. "We need to do that meeting, but I must go directly to the Jarl of Whiterun. If it is a trap, Hadvar will need backup."

"I will guard his life with mine," Kharjo said.

"With any luck, that won't be at all necessary."

30 Evening Star, Tirdas 4E201

Despite the war, Whiterun was preparing for the Festival of New Life. Peryn felt like an unwelcome intruder into the festive season, bringing the war with him into a city that was trying its best to forget it.

Like the rest of the city, Dragonsreach was torn between the anticipation of celebration and dutiful reflection. Peryn liked the interplay between the holidays, how the joy and revelry of New Life was mixed with the remembrance and reflection of Old Life. It created a balance that he appreciated.

"Peryn! Good to see you, as always. Have you come to celebrate the Festival in Whiterun?" Jarl Balgruff asked as Peryn walked into the Great Hall of Dragonsreach. He seemed happier than Peryn had seen him before. Even the war couldn't break the spirit of celebration, and the Jarl was clearly no exception.

"I'm afraid not. Legion business," Peryn said, gesturing to the Legion armor he was wearing. "Though I won't be in any hurry to leave, not if I don't have to be."

"What does your damn Legion need with me this time?" Balgruuf asked, his mood noticeably souring. "And why now?"

"A delivery," Peryn said. "I'd guess another attempt at getting you to accept Imperial troops and assistance."

"And they thought they'd use my Thane to convince me?" Balgruuf looked as though he wasn't sure to be disgusted or amused. "Did they really think that would work?"

"Of course not," Peryn said. "Tullius isn't an idiot, but he was hoping that me bringing the letter would put you in a better mood."

"Let's see it then," Balgruuf sighed. "This had better be good."

31 Evening Star, Middas, 4E201

"I've figured out what was wrong about that letter," Hadvar said, as they reached Riverwood's walls. He should have figured it out earlier, being from Riverwood and all, but he'd been a bit too distracted at the time to realized what was wrong.

"What? That it is a trap? Khajiit knew this from the beginning," Kharjo said.

Hadvar shook his head. "No, that was obvious enough. But I know what the trap is."

"Oh? This is good news," the Khajiit said with a grin. "If we know the trap, we can know the trapper, and we can trap him ourselves."

"The inn we're looking for is over there. Tell me, does it look tall enough to have an attic room?" Hadvar asked.

"Possibly? I am not sure," Kharjo said, looking at the inn. "Perhaps one could fit up there. Certainly not more."

"I've lived here for years, and I've never heard anything about one. I don't think it's real. That's what whoever is waiting for us will be looking for. Someone asking specifically for a room that doesn't exist."

Kharjo made a small noise. "New Life is tomorrow. The town is empty. Most everyone has gone to Whiterun. If our host were to stick around the inn all day waiting, he would seem very odd, but he cannot risk not being here for our arrival, else he would miss his signal. So, who can sit in an inn all day without raising any suspicion?"

"The innkeep," Hadvar said, nodding. "I've talked to her a few times. Delphine, Breton woman. Just showed up out of the blue one day maybe fifteen years ago."

"Surprising an innkeeper in her own inn will be difficult. I must think about this," Kharjo said.

Hadvar entered the Sleeping Giant as he'd done more than a few times before, though never nearly as nervously as this time. He hoped that being away as often as he had been over the last decade would make it hard for him to be recognized.

He bought some food from Orgnar, who didn't seem to think of him as anything besides a traveler. Delphine came up from the cellar shortly after. He caught a flicker of surprise in her eyes when he asked for the attic room, and was glad to see that Kharjo had slipped into the inn and was moving from the bar to a table with a bowl of stew. He went back to his meal for a few minutes before moving towards his room, willing himself to not look back to see if Delphine was following him as Kharjo expected.

She didn't come right away, leaving Hadvar to set down his pack and look out the window. He controlled the urge to pace nervously, figuring that appearing calm would be best when she finally did come.

He didn't hear the door open, nor did he see it, as he was studying the bookcase, but he did hear Delphine speak. "So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about, Hadvar. Pretty surprised you were here under my nose the whole time. I think you're looking for this." She held what he could only assume to be the Horn of Jürgen Windcaller.

Hadvar didn't have a chance to answer, or really process that she'd called him Dragonborn, before Kharjo slammed the door shut and put his sword to Delphine's neck.

"Khajit knows how a trap smells," he said. "I protect this one with my life. Tell me why I shouldn't end yours."

Delphine, to her credit, was remarkably calm for someone who could die in a second with a wrong answer. "I'm not your enemy. I have the Horn. This is the only way I could make sure this wasn't a Thalmor trap."

"And what would the Thalmor want with an innkeeper?" Hadvar asked.

"Not here," she said. "I promise, I can explain, just let me do it."

Hadvar looked at Kharjo and nodded. He stepped back and released Delphine. "Good. Follow me," she said, walking out of the room. She went over to one across the hall. "Close the door behind you."

Hadvar did as she asked. Delphine then opened her wardrobe and pushed, revealing a false back. That surprised Hadvar a bit. He followed her down the stairs into what could only be described as a secret lair. The walls were covered in maps, and there were several storage cupboards, one of which was open and filled to the brim with potions.

"They Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn," Delphine said, walking over to a table with a large map on it. "I hope they're right." Hadvar tried his best to not let his surprise show. He was going to have some questions for Peryn when they met again.

"You took the Horn from Ustengrav," Hadvar said. It wasn't a question.

"Surprised?" Delphine said with a laugh. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act. Speaking of which, how did you know I was the person you were meeting? That set up with your Khajit friend didn't happen on accident."

Hadvar shrugged. "Local boy," he said. "I knew this place doesn't have an attic room, which meant there weren't a lot of people who could be the person who left that letter. So I'm here. What do you want?"

"I didn't go to all that trouble on a whim," Delphine said. "Like I said in my note, I've heard you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"Why are you looking for a Dragonborn?" Hadvar asked.

"We remember what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

"Yes," Hadvar said, hoping she didn't pick up on the lie. He didn't quite know what exactly being Dragonborn meant, but hoped that she wasn't testing him. "That's how I first learned I was Dragonborn."

"Good," Delphine said. "And you'll have a chance to prove it to me soon enough."

"There is something you are not telling us," Kharjo said.

"Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life," Delphine sighed. "They weren't gone somewhere all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life." She paused and looked Hadvar in the eye. "And I need you to help me stop it."

"Dragons coming back to life," he said. "You realize how crazy this sounds, right?"

Delphine laughed, a cold bitter thing. "I told the same thing to a colleague of mine, a few years back. He was right, and I was wrong.

"Alright, so what makes you think they're coming back to life?" Hadvar asked.

"The Dragonstone you got for Farengar, unless he got who the Dragonborn is confused. It's a map of ancient dragon burial sites. I've looked at which ones are now empty. The pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading from the southeast, down in the Jeralls near Riften. The one at Kynesgrove is next if the pattern holds."

"So we're heading to Kynesgrove?"

"Not yet. I need to finish up a couple things here first. We'll leave in the morning." Hadvar thanked the gods for that. It meant he might be able to get out of having to play Dragonborn in front of a dragon.

7 Morning Star, Middas, 4E202

Windhelm was a remarkably depressing city for one that had a long, proud history, though it was more fitting for one that stood as the capital of a rebellion of a people who had nearly given up. It was snowing when Peryn entered the gates, complete with a wary eye from the guards. Not for the first time, Peryn thanked his father for being a Redguard. The extra muscle he'd gotten out of the bargain made him look almost Nord, along with its other uses, and it caused the gate guard to barely look twice before she let him in.

It was late enough that he saw no point in going to the Palace of the Kings until morning. The raging snowstorm may or may not have contributed to his decision to head to the nearest in as quickly as possible to get some ale in him and a fire nearby.

Candlehearth Hall was more than good enough for a night, Peryn thought as he practically inhaled the stew, feeling slowly returning to his hands and feet. What he wouldn't give to be on the Isle of Betony right now.

The snow had stopped by the morning, though the weak sun poking through clouds every few minutes as Peryn made his way to the Palace wasn't much better. It was as though the weather was aware that the war would only intensify when Peryn brought the death warrant of thousands to Ulfric, and didn't want to be too pleasant.

He made his way into the Palace with such a grim face that the guards did not stop him. They knew that someone with that expression could only have war business with the Jarl. The Main Hall was empty, despite being brilliantly decorated, save for the throne far in the back and one man beside it. Peryn knew the men there as the Jarl and the Stone-Fist, if by reputation rather than recognition.

He was in the troll's den, hoping to not get eaten, he thought as he looked across the Hall. Balgruuf had said that Ulfric would honor the old Nordic traditions, if nothing else, and that he would likely be given safe passage out of the Palace and the city after he delivered his message, but Peryn still felt as though he was walking closer and closer to the execution block he'd found himself so lucky to escape from a few months prior.

"You have not been in the Palace before." The echo of Jarl Ulfric's voice contained strength and power, even from such a distance. "Too well-dressed to be a farmer, pleading for aid. Too battle-hardened to be a merchant, flocking to the coin of war like a dog to meat. Dangerous and afraid, a very deadly combination. A messenger, most likely, come to tell me news of the war, of men who fought and died for their homeland. What brings you to my hall?"

Peryn had stopped at the greeting, still many paces from the throne itself. He resumed walking as he answered. "I see that you do not remember me, my Jarl. We faced death together, but the gods decided that it was not our time."

"Helgen," Ulfric said, in a tone that said he remembered the event far more than Peryn. "It has been a good while since then. We lost many good Stormcloaks that day. I am surprised that you did not disappear into the province. Hide from the Empire."

Peryn barked out a laugh. "I've done quite the opposite. I come as Thane of Whiterun, with a message from the Jarl of my city."

"Jarl Balgruuf made you Thane less than four months since you arrived in Skyrim," Ulfric said, sounding at least mildly impressed. "What did you do to earn his respect so quickly?"

"I killed a dragon," Peryn said.

Ulfric's eyes betrayed the surprise he felt, though the rest of his face was impassive. "When they Greybeards called, their Voices were felt even here in Windhelm. Did they call for you?"

"They did."

"Then I welcome the Dragonborn to my Hall. Were that in were in better times," Ulfric said. "What message does the Jarl of Whiterun have for me?"

Peryn reached into his pack and lifted out Balgruuf's axe, which he set in front of the Jarl's throne.

The Jarl of Windhelm sighed. "You are brave to carry such a message, though I would expect nothing less from the Dragonborn. It is a pity you have chosen the wrong side."  
"I choose no side," Peryn said. "Only the side of my Jarl."

"A noble statement, if made a lie by the very nature of civil war," Ulfric said. "You can return this axe to the man who sent it. And tell him to expect visitors…"

"We will be seeing you soon," Peryn said.

"Sooner than you think." Ulfric nodded and Peryn knew that he was being dismissed with only a few seconds to leave. But there was one thing that had been nagging him the entire journey to Windhelm.

"May I ask a question before I go, as Dragonborn?" he asked.

"Ask. I will answer if it deserves one."

"You can Shout. That means you studied with the Greybeards once, does it not? Why did you leave High Hrothgar?"

Ulfric sighed. "They chose me when I was just a lad. It was a great honor, of course. I was to become a Greybeard myself. I spent almost ten years at High Hrothgar, learning the Way of the Voice. Then the Great War came... I couldn't stand missing it. I had to fight for what I knew was right. I often think about High Hrothgar. It's very... disconnected from the troubles down here. But that's why I couldn't stay, and why I couldn't go back. I suppose the Greybeards care about Skyrim's troubles, in their way, but I needed to do something about it. I'm sure Arngeir would call it one of my failings."

"The Way of the Voice is beautiful," Peryn said, "But it doesn't quite work down here." He adjusted his gloves before continuing. "My father's brother was a Redguard who joined in the defense of Hammerfell, killed in action driving Lady Arannelya and her army back across the Alik'r desert. His wife was a war widow, supporting two children without a trade. It was… too much for her. Being blind to that kind of suffering is a different failing, whatever one's reasons may be."

"I fight today for the same reasons I did then." Ulfric said.

"Do you?" Peryn asked. "Or is this something you just tell yourself, that the suffering you see can be fixed by the right man's rule?" He shook his head. "I am supposed to be the one with the soul of a dragon, and yet it is the Elves and Nords who are debating philosophy and religion in ways that cannot help but bring destruction."

"Any debate with the Thalmor would have no choice but to turn violent!" the Stone-Fist burst out from his seat near the Jarl. "If you don't see that, you're a fool."

"He knows, Galmar," Ulfirc said.

Peryn simply nodded and turned to leave the Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've caught up on this one, so you'll have to wait until I actually finish the next chapter before you get to read it. Hopefully that won't be too long, but I thought it was worth the heads up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Fox


	6. Here Be Dragons

8 Morning Star, Turdas, 4E202

"I'm not a gods-damned Thalmor spy!"

"Yeah, tell it to the jailors, you elf filth. Why else would a Wood Elf be in Windhelm?"

The Bosmer sighed. "I'm here to visit my sister. She lives in the Grey Quarter with the Dunmer."

Peryn was on his way out of the city when he passed the commotion at the gate. He sighed as he tried to slip past without being noticed. As much as he hated not doing anything, there was no point in him sticking around and getting into a fight with the Windhelm guards, even if it was to stop them from being prejudiced asses.

Those plans were dashed as soon as the Bosmer called out to him. "Peryn! Gods, you're a sight for sore eyes. Maybe you can convince these guards that I'm not a Thalmor spy."

Peryn looked over to see Faendal standing against the walls, surrounded by a pair of angry looking Nord guards.

"You know this Elf?" one asked him.

"Yes," Peryn said. "His name is Faendal, he's a hunter and works at the mill in Riverwood. He's a friend of mine."

"And his supposed sister?" the other challenged.

Peryn just shrugged. "I've never met her myself," he lied. "But Faendal's talked about her a couple of times. Lives in the Grey Quarter with the Dark Elves, if I'm not mistaken."

The guards looked at each other for a second. "Alright," the first one said, "But no funny business, or it's to the dungeons with both of you." They left with that.

"Thank you, friend," Faendal said. "Come, you should meet my sister, it's only right."

"I'm sorry, but I have to be going," Peryn said. Faendal shook his head.

"Not without meeting my sister you aren't," he said in a voice that set Peryn on edge. He decided following the Bosmer was the best option. Faendal led him down an alleyway that made Peryn reach for his weapon despite his trust of the Bosmer before Faendal reached into his pack.

"The guards weren't entirely wrong," he said, handing a piece of paper to Peryn. "I'm not a Thalmor spy, but I don't have a sister, here or anywhere, and I was trying to smuggle something into the city. Hadvar sent me to find you, though I signed up to look in Whiterun, not Windhelm. Anyway, he seemed desperate to get this to you, so here you go."

Faendal disappeared down the alleyway, leaving a very confused Peryn standing in the cold. He looked at the piece of paper in his hand, and figured he might as well see what it was.

Peryn,

We were right about the trap. They're convinced I'm Dragonborn (you have some explaining to do), and I'm supposed to go to Kynesgrove to kill a dragon there. We leave New Life morn, and should get there late on the 8th. The sooner you can come and help, the better.

Good luck,

Hadvar

Peryn's blood ran cold.

"This is Kynesgrove," Delphine said. "Not much to look at. Let's see if we can find that dragon mound." She didn't have a chance to think about where to begin looking, though, as a woman ran out of the inn.

"A dragon, it's attacking!" she screamed.

"Where's this dragon?" Delphine asked.

"It flew over the town and landed on the old dragon burial mound east of town." The woman said. I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!" She took off away from the town as she finished. Understandable, Hadvar thought, if a little unnerving.

"Hurry!" Delphine said, starting toward the mound. "We might already be too late."

Peryn rode as fast as he could, begging the poor horse to give him everything she had. The roads were mercifully empty, and it had taken him no time to find a horse in Windhelm, but he was still completely terrified of being too late. If they were all late and found Kynesgrove a smoldering ruin it would be one thing, one terrible thing, but something he could handle. But he couldn't shake the feeling he'd find Hadvar's corpse in the rubble.

He heard a roar from the south. A dragon's roar. Akatosh preserve him. He urged the horse faster.

The dragon that came out of the ground was nothing but a skeleton, but as the big black one spoke to it, flesh grew to cover the bones. The black one said something to the newly raised green dragon before flying off into the mountains. Hadvar, Delphine, and Kharjo began firing arrows at the dragon that remained as soon as their minds began to work again, hoping to take it down by sheer force of numbers. It roared and breathed fire in their direction, causing them to scatter behind cover before resuming their barrage.

The dragon flapped its wings and started to rise into the air. Their cover was next to useless against something from above, and they scattered in order to avoid the blast of flame they knew was coming.

They were small and agile, which kept them away from the attacks the dragon tried to rain down, though constantly being on the move meant that it was harder to hit the dragon with any reliability. Hadvar felt the quiver on his back getting lighter and the pit in his stomach getting larger as arrow after arrow either flew past the dragon or fell short. He wasn't the best archer in the Legion by a mile, but he was still a decent shot. Right now, though, it was like he was a raw recruit again. The dragon would be hard enough to kill without getting rid of the only way he had to do it without getting close to those teeth.

Kharjo and Delphine were having slightly better luck than he was, and a couple of his arrows did get lucky and find their mark in the dragon's wings. It roared, hopefully in pain, as one of Kharjo's arrows fully pierced the skin on its wing, leaving a small, but visible, hole in the limb. He was repaid with another blast of fire that knocked him back, but didn't seem to do any damage, though the grass in front of where Kharjo had been standing was blackened.

Hadvar heard the sound of a horse thundering up the hill, and heard the sound of a couple of arrows being launched by its rider. They both hit their marks, leaving two more holes in the dragon's already damaged wings. Hadvar hoped the scales had already been weakened, easing the arrows' path. Even in a fight for his life, he hoped his marksmanship wasn't as bad as that made it look. He was still a Nord, after all, with all the pride that came with it.

The latest volley of arrows from his companions also hit their mark, as the dragon was less able to maneuver with holes in its wings and an extra attacker. It made a decision to land instead of straining to stay aloft, but not without sending a blast of fire towards Delphine food good measure. She dodged it easily, though Hadvar could see she was starting to get tired. He was, too, for that matter. They wouldn't be able to hold out against the dragon for much longer, although their new ally would be a huge help. Nord pride or not, Hadvar wasn't exactly going to turn down aid when fighting a dragon. That's how you get yourself killed and eaten.

That line of thought ended quickly, as Hadvar found himself in the way of the next fire blast. He ducked behind a boulder on the side of the hill and watched as the flames rushed past a tree before dissipating, turning it to ash in the process.

It was then that he got a chance to look at the newcomer. Hadvar didn't have more than a second to glance at him before turning back to the dragon and firing another arrow, but he didn't need any more than that to recognize Peryn. His heart rose and his stomach flipped. The gods had sent him the best chance he'd could have hoped for to make sure this dragon died.

The dragon was much slower on the ground than in the air. Even as it moved toward Kharjo, it was slow enough that it could do almost nothing to avoid the arrows coming at it from all sides. Kharjo moved to avoid being in front of the dragon's mouth, and Hadvar reached into his quiver for another arrow. He instead grasped at air.

"No, no, gods, no," he muttered, pulling the quiver off his back. As he feared, it was empty. Hadvar dropped his bow and unsheathed his sword. He looked at the dragon's spiked tail and claws before deciding that close combat wasn't going to do him any good. His part in this fight was over. He only hoped it would be enough.

The dragon was tiring, though, and was struggling to move from all the arrows that were stuck in its scales. Peryn had taken a moment sometime to summon his Atronach, who pelted the dragon with firebolts. Hadvar wasn't sure exactly how effective hitting a fire-breathing dragon with fire would be, but he figured it couldn't really hurt, especially since the fire didn't cause any of the arrow shafts to burn. If nothing else, they were clearly an annoyance to the dragon, just like all the arrows they had been shooting.

The dragon decided that it had had enough of the newcomer, and turned toward Peryn and his Atronach, swiping its tail in Kharjo's direction before it moved away. Hadvar watched as Peryn took a second to decide if he should run, and then shoot a final arrow at the dragon.

Hadvar was never sure if it was a lucky shot, or if there was something else that caused it, but the arrow went straight through the dragon's left eye. The dragon reared up in pain and roared before collapsing on the ground. Everyone stood still, not daring to move until they knew it was dead.

Delphine was the first to speak. "I'll be damned. We did it. Come on. I've always wanted to take a look at one of these." She started to walk towards the dragon's body. Then it began to glow.

It was subtle at first, subtle enough that Hadvar wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't just seeing things after the end of a tough fight, but it slowly got brighter and brighter. Scales began to rise off the body of the dragon and fade into the air with a crackle.

Hadvar looked around at the others. Kharjo seemed as shocked as he was, Delphine seemed in awe, though less surprised, and Peryn seemed nonchalant. Hadvar thought that Peryn might have been expecting whatever was going on, as he turned back to the dragon. The scales were rushing off the body now, leaving bare bones exposed on the wings and tail. They all watched, motionless, as more and more of the dragon's skeleton became visible.

Hadvar felt the heat of the wind before he felt the wind itself. It was as though the dragon had released one final blast of fire before its end. He braced himself against the blast, but it calmed after just as second. The dragon was now nothing but a pile of bones on the hillside.

Delphine turned to Hadvar, stunned. "So you really are... I... it's true, isn't it? You really are Dragonborn."

"That honor would be mine, actually," Peryn said, coming over and putting a hand on Hadvar's shoulder. "Peryn Gaerton, nice to meet you."

Delphine looked between the two of them for several seconds before answering. "I think we all owe each other some explanations," she said.

"They'll have to wait," Peryn said. "I'm sorry, but we need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," she said, giving Peryn a look. He ignored it.

"Then we'll leave you here, because I need to be in Whiterun before the Stormcloaks. Kharjo, can you make it back to the caravan on your own?"

"Khajiit is adept at surviving in the wilderness," Kharjo said. "Do not worry on my account."

"Look, we'll meet you back in Riverwood, but we've got a war to fight right now." Peryn said.

"The dragons and the Thalmor are more important than the Nords' silly little war," she snapped.

"Are they are larger long term threat? Maybe," Peryn said. "That doesn't mean I want to let someone who's got the same general ideas as the Thalmor without the "ending Mundus" bit cause a big part of the Empire to secede."

He motioned toward where his horse was nervously stomping at the ground. "Come on Hadvar, we've got a city to defend."

11 Morning Star, Sundas, 4E202

Peryn felt a little bad about how hard they'd ridden the poor horse, who probably wasn't used to carrying two relatively large men for long days, but he knew they needed to get to Whiterun as quickly as possible. It's not like riding double was a lot of fun for him either, though he wasn't going to complain about that much physical contact with Hadvar. He wondered if he could convince the Jarl to decorate the horse and retire her to some nice pasture outside of the city. That would have to wait until after the war, though.

They reached the stables outside of the city and gave the stable boy instructions to make sure the horse got rest and all the dust and grime cleaned off. She deserved it.

They were just able to stop themselves from sprinting through the city to Dragonsreach, stopping only to grab Lydia from where she was heating some leftover stew for her lunch.

"What's the hurry?" she asked as they made their way through the Cloud District.

"The Stormcloaks are going to attack the city," Peryn said.

"That's not news," she pointed out. "The Jarl's been preparing for an attack since you left last. The whole city knows that he's finally picked a side in this war; the question was just which one."

"That's good, but he needs to know that it's a certainty now. Ulfric said as much to me."

Lydia made a small noise. "How soon?" she asked.

"My guess is the orders to attack followed me out of Windhelm. If they had a sizable force around, which is likely, then it's possible they could be here… well, worst case is they show up tonight." Peryn said.

The Jarl was holding court in Dragonsreach's Great Hall, but his only visitor was a man in a uniform that Peryn remembered as belonging to a Legate. His conversation with the Jarl stopped as soon as they noticed Peryn's entrance.

"What is the news?" Balgruuf asked. Peryn pulled the axe out of his pack in answer. The Jarl nodded, a somber gesture.

"You've returned with my axe," he said with a wry smile. "I knew that would be his response. As soon as you left I sent word to General Tullius, who's been kind enough to lend us some of his troops and Legate Cipius here. Let Ulfric try to make it past our combined forces. I'll turn you back over to your Legion. Legate Cipius will have use for you. Gods be with us all."

Peryn and Hadvar turned expectantly toward the Legate, who shook his head. "Rikke's transferred the two of you to my command until she arrives. I don't have anything for you two yet, certainly not without rest. I want you at full strength for whatever may come. Rikke's told me that you're two of her best, and she doesn't give praise lightly. Take the rest of the day off; that's an order."

They left Dragonsreach and walked down toward Breezehome. Peryn felt a little weird coming back after a couple months away, but he had bought the place, so he might as well use it. He noticed that, other than the kitchen, most of the house looked as though it was gathering dust.

"What have you been doing since I've been gone?" he asked Lydia. She shrugged.

"Freelance work for the Companions, mostly," she said. "They always need another competent blade around Jorvaskr. A bit of helping my brother with his crazy research."

"I didn't think you were much of a woman for magic," Peryn said.

Lydia laughed. "I'm not. But Farengar is worthless at killing things, and sometimes that's necessary. I'm not really looking forward to the day when he gets himself killed, so I try to make sure he doesn't get into anything I can't get him out of."

The rest of the day was spent making Breezehome habitable, instead of a somewhat convenient bed with a kitchen attached. Despite Lydia using it as a base of operations in between jobs for her brother and the Companions, the house was in almost as bad shape as it was when Peryn first bought it. He wondered if it was worth the trouble to own the house at all, if everyone who might use it as a home was trying as hard as possible to be somewhere else. That was part of the nature of his trade, he thought. Adventurers and mercenaries never have needed an permanent port of call; their services always needed in a new place. That was the main reason he hadn't been back to Wayrest. There wasn't any need to, not when he could find work wherever he was.

Peryn and Hadvar went to bed early, completely worn out both from their fight with the dragon and the long days of hard riding. Peryn was still worried about a night attack, though he hoped Ulfric's sense of honor would delay any attack until the morning. He knew he was a bit paranoid about it, but night attacks had been a bad experience for him already, and he didn't really want to have to deal with another one ever again.

Fortunately, no attack came, at least not until Peryn was awake. He and Hadvar had reported to Legate Cipius just after sunrise. "I'm still not entirely sure what to do with you," he admitted. "My men are used to the numbers they have, and it's not like an extra couple of eyes of the walls will make much difference. We'll know when the Stormcloaks come. I suppose you should just stay here for now. I'll send you out as soon as I hear of a need."

They nodded, and Peryn went to take up his spot next to the Jarl's throne. He still felt odd about standing there during court, but Proventus and Balgruuf had insisted that it was traditional for a Thane of the Hold to stand with his Jarl, and so he did. He felt himself lucky to be busy as often as he was; standing around doing nothing but listening to petitions all day sounded terrible.

They didn't have to wait long. The Jarl and Legate were discussing the defensive state of the city when a soldier came bursting through the doors.

"Sir! I... I have..." he said, panting.

"Take a moment to breathe, soldier," the Legate told him. The man swallowed.

"But... sir..."

"Breathe!" Cipius said.

Balgruuf continued with the conversation from before. "The outer walls are strong," he said. "If we can hold them there..."

"They have catapults," Cipius said. "We can't just keep them out."

"Damn it! Where'd they get catapults?" Balgruuf groaned slightly. "The city walls are already falling apart as it is." Peryn noticed that the last two things he'd said were exact opposites, but figured there was some reason for it. Looking strong or something. Damn Nords.

"My scouts tell me they're loading them with fire," Cipius said. The mood room got noticeably heavier. Fire in a city was bad news, no two ways about it.

"So, he wants to take my city, walls intact," Balgruuf noted. "But not necessarily anything else."

"The men will be fighting in flames."

The Jarl shook his head. "My men are fearless," he said. "It's the Imperial milk drinkers I'm worried about."

"If you prefer I took my men and left..." Cipius said, though there was nothing behind the threat besides a mix of amusement and grim understanding.

"No. Of course not. Just - don't let me down Cipius." Balgruuf sighed. "We'll need to set up water brigades to combat the flames."

"Already taken care of."

The Jarl hummed in satisfaction. "You Imperials are efficient, I'll give you that. How long until they arrive?"

"Not long. They're hiding in the countryside."

"Damn it. What's he waiting for?" Balgruuf asked. "We know he's coming, and he knows that we know…"

"Sir!" the soldier, who had been opening and closing his mouth like some giant nutcracker throughout the entire conversation, finally spoke.

"What?!" Cipius asked, seeming rather annoyed at being interrupted.

"Sir, they're on the move. They'll be at the gates at any moment!"

"Why didn't you say so immediately?!" the Legate asked.

"Sir, I tried." The poor soldier sounded exasperated. "Rikke is already gathering the men down at the outer walls."

"This is it." The Jarl said, shaking his head. "It's finally time for the war to come to Whiterun. Time to see what these Stormcloaks are made of." He paused, a faraway look in his eyes, and then sighed. "Oblivion take them. Every last one of them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason, this has gotten more views here in a month than on ff.net in eight. That's like, really exciting for me. I got this account because I was wondering if anyone actually read this, and the answer here has been yes. I'm aware that this is going to be pretty niche as far as fics go, but I'm glad that there's been people, both on ff.net and AO3, who are willing to read my little self-indulgent piece of writing.
> 
> It really is a shame that Bethesda didn't put in any kind of character interaction with Hadvar besides the civil war. I mean, they didn't seem to think players would bond with the first NPC to help them on the Imperial side? Come on, Bethesda, you hired a unique voice actor for the guy, give him some interesting things to say and things to do.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. I'm not sure how much of the battle I plan on putting in the next chapter, whether that's totally skipping it, going into dragon fighting levels of detail, or just putting in a couple of the most important bits. Your thoughts on the matter would be appreciated.
> 
> Fox


	7. The Battle of Whiterun

12 Morning Star, Morndas, 4E202  
The entire city was filled with people scrambling to bring in the last of their belongings before they rode out the fighting in their houses. Peryn also saw that some of the civilians were headed down with grandad’s old sword or whatever else they could find to use as a weapon. Some of the youngest had nothing more than a small dagger. Peryn felt a swell of pride for his adopted city; the people had no intention of cowering in their homes and waiting for the invaders to take their city. He wondered, briefly, if there were any Stormcloak sympathizers among the crowd, deciding to defend their city instead of their ideals. He saw the Greymanes close their door as he passed the manor, and decided that the odds were probably pretty poor.

  
“Peryn,” Lydia said, running to catch up to him. “Keep going without me; there’s something I need to take care of before I join the fun.”

  
Peryn looked at her, eyebrow raised. “What do you need to do?”

  
“Talk some sense into a bunch of idiots,” she said. “I’m going to get us some allies.”

  
While Peryn didn’t understand what she meant, he was never going to turn down more help in a fight. It helped that he trusted Lydia completely. He nodded, and she took off at an impressive sprint. Peryn turned to look at Hadvar. They made eye contact, nodded briefly, and rushed down to find Rikke.

***

The doors to Jorrvaskr pounded against the walls with a bang as Lydia threw them open. She glanced around before snorting derisively. Of course the Companions weren’t around. That’s what would be expected, actually, with Whiterun under attack. Someone could be forgiven for thinking that they had gone to the walls. Lydia knew better.

She marched over to the stairs that led down to the living quarters of the hall, stomping with every step to make sure the Companions could hear her. It was a little childish, she knew, but she didn’t really care.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she tried to throw the door open with as much force as she had earlier, but instead, she only tripped into it. The door was locked. That meant one of two things: either the Companions were determined to throw away their legacy and make sure that nobody got the chance to try to convince them otherwise, or Whitemane was keeping everyone locked up because some of them had tried to get out, and he didn’t want them to go for whatever reason he’d gotten into that thick skull of his. Lydia wasn’t sure which one was more likely, but neither one improved her already low opinion of the old man. She raised a fist and pounded on the door so hard that the frames shook.

There was no answer. That only made her angrier. Not that she expected one, not really, but she still felt personally insulted by the fact that the Companions would stay bunkered up while she, Housecarl to the Thane of Whiterun, was at their door. It was shameful, really. She pounded on the door again.

She reared back for another hit before stopping short as the door swung open. Not that she could have done any damage to Farkas, even if she had hit him, but he was Lydia’s favorite of the Companions, perceptive and honest. Instead, she stumbled slightly, caught herself, and regarded the mountain of a man in the doorway.

“You’re here to see the old man.” He said. It wasn’t a question. She doubted that anyone in Jorrvaskr didn’t know exactly why she was here, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that most of them knew that she was coming, either. Farkas didn’t look at all surprised to see her, in fact, he seemed quite happy, at least as much as Farkas showed emotion. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, and his voice was had an air of confidence that Lydia normally associated with his brother. It also didn’t escape her that Farkas was dressed in his armor. Maybe the Companions weren’t as much of a lost cause as she’d hoped.

Whitemane was in his quarters with the rest of the Circle, looking none too happy to see Lydia walk in. Not that she cared much what they thought.  
“Housecarl,” he said, dipping his head slightly in greeting. “What brings you to Jorvaskr?”

She shook her head impatiently. “As though you have to ask. The city is under siege, Harbinger, and I notice that the Companions are not on the front lines.”

“We have no stake in your Thane’s little war,” Whitemane said, a tinge of irritation creeping into his voice. “Despite his status as a Companion, his involvement is his own business.”

“As I would expect,” Lydia said. “But the Jarl himself will lead the militia in this battle. Surely the Companions do not intend to force him to do so alone.”

“We are not sworn swords of the Jarl. We do not march to war because he says so.”

“Of course not,” Lydia said, holding back the urge to roll her eyes at the stubborn old man. “But to allow your city to be pillaged and burned around you, sitting in your hall confident in your own safety and neutrality, what honor is there in that?”

She watched as Vilkas shifted uncomfortably at her mention of honor. He was always very big on that. So she probably had both brothers on her side, as long as Vilkas didn’t give in to his urge to differ to Whitemane on everything. Lydia knew that Whitemane tried hard to train him out of it; it was probably the one thing stopping Vilkas from being next in line to be Harbinger.

The Circle stood silent as they waited for the Harbinger’s response. For a long time, he merely looked past Lydia to the doorway and said nothing.

“I am old,” he said eventually, “And perhaps a bit too set in my ways. And perhaps I have a preference in this war that I try so hard to keep the Companions out of.” Whitemane shook his head. “I fear what would happen if I, or anyone, take the side of his heart and fight for a losing cause. What would become of someone who fights against his Jarl, whether that be Balgruuf or whichever Grey-Mane is chosen to replace him?” He gestured out toward the Circle. “This is why I tell them to stay. I will not lead any of the Companions to their death, not by executioner’s axe. And what if two Companions were to meet on the field of battle? Would you ask that someone slay her Shield-Sister, Housecarl?”

The Harbinger’s voice was pained, and Lydia felt her heart sink. As she searched for words to answer Whitemane’s another voice filled the room.

“Harbinger.” Farkas’ voice was strong and confident. “I wish to fight, not as a Companion, but because my Shield-Brother and my friend, Thane of this city, will be on those walls. Disown me if the city falls, but if it does, I want to die with its defenders, not live hidden here. Defending Whiterun with the Dragonborn is more than honor enough for me.”

Whitemane nodded softly. “Then go,” he said. “Go, and may the Five Hundred go with you.” He paused. “Vilkas!” he said, voice again full of power and authority. The man perked up at his name. “Go with him. Fight together with such ferocity that the bards sing of you until the end of the Era.”

“Aye, Harbinger.”

“Housecarl,” he said turning to Lydia.

“Harbinger?”

“What in the name of Shor are you doing here? Your Thane is ready for battle! Go to him, and may Ysgrimor go with you.”

Lydia’s grin didn’t go away until she was back outside, when the tension turned her expression to one of hard determination.

***

Peryn stood on the outer walls with the other archers who had been called into the first line. Everyone had a fierce gaze as they looked for the approaching Stormcloaks, bows ready to fire the second the main column made its appearance. Several flame atronachs floated lazily around, and a few of their icy cousins waited on the ground below to ensure that nobody got past the defenses.

Peryn flexed his shoulders to keep them loose. There were a couple of swordsmen protecting the ladders, but Peryn was the next line of defense as the only archer to have a melee weapon larger than a simple dagger. He appreciated the flexibility it gave him, but the obvious drawback of carrying two weapons at all times was that his shoulders complained pretty often.

He looked down to where Lydia and the twins stood with the militia as the next line of defense. They were a contrast to the Legion, far more nervous in preparation for a real battle, though Peryn could see even from his post that having a Housecarl and two Companions in their ranks was having a positive effect. The city guard were good fighters, even if they didn’t have the training and experience of their Imperial counterparts. Peryn wasn’t worried about them; he was worried about the figures he could barely see, the last line of defense. Most every man and woman who could wield a sword (and some children, too, though they were sent to the Temple of Kynereth with the others) had insisted that they be allowed to defend their homes. Peryn hoped that Ulfric would be merciful to them if the worst happened.

The thin line of men on the horizon had grown larger as he surveyed the other defending troops. They would be within range soon. This was no petty rebellion now, no matter what General Tullius said; even if it was to be over quickly, this was still a war. Peryn notched an arrow and waited.

***

Hadvar had fought before, but it had always been in an isolated skirmish of only a few men on each side. It did basically nothing to prepare him for a real battle, with sounds of swords hitting each other and the screams of fury and pain that rang out in all directions. He stood in the first block of Legionnaires, helpless to aid in the fighting in front of him at the beginning of the battle. He knew that the lines would become meaningless eventually, and his position in the third row wouldn’t protect him from the fight itself. A part of him relished it, and another part anticipated it with dread.

Dimly, in the back of his mind, Hadvar felt proud that he never really felt as though running away was an option. He wasn’t sure why, but there would be time to think about that later, when the risk of dying was much lower.

He heard a whistling as another volley of arrows was launched by the archers behind him. They were very effective at weakening the enemy, something Hadvar was grateful for. The first block and the archers worked as much as one unit as two, each one helping the other be as deadly as possible. The archers weakened the enemy lines with their arrows and fire from the atronachs, the swordsmen cut down everyone who survived that, and, just in case that didn’t get everyone, the archers would send round two of arrows.

In theory, it was very effective, but Hadvar couldn’t help but notice that Imperial soldiers were falling just like the rebels. That was war, of course, but it didn’t make the feeling any better.  
Hadvar stood, ready, as the lines slowly thinned in front of him. At least the flanks didn’t seem to be under any stress. A woman fell directly in front of him, and Hadvar took a breath as he stepped over her to fill the line. May the gods send her soul to Sovengard, but in the meantime, he had a war to help win. He sent a quick prayer to, of all the gods, Diabella, hoping to see Peryn at the end of this. That was something else to think about once this was over, if he got to the end of it. That was his last thought before training, instinct, and adrenaline took over.

***

Peryn knew the order was coming before it came. The front lines were taking heavy casualties, and the outer walls that had served as a beautiful staging spot for the archers would become a slaughterhouse if they didn’t get out of the way before the lines were forced to pull back completely. At the captain’s signal, the archers began to file down the ladders, falling back toward the city in hope of regaining a little bit of a height advantage.

“Gaerton!” Peryn heard, as he descended the ladder. His captain shouted down at him. “Switch to the sword on the ground. Give the front cover!” she yelled. Peryn nodded and touched down, glad for the feel of earth beneath his boots. He pulled the sword out of the scabbard on his back and moved toward where the real fighting was happening.

The view from the walls was a pretty gruesome one, but it was nothing compared to the carnage on the ground. Peryn briefly wondered about Hadvar and Lydia, but quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He couldn’t do anything to help them unless he got going and relieved the pressure on the front lines.

***

Vilkas rallied the militia when he saw the fighting turning toward them. Despite the clamor and screams of battle, he turned to face the men and women behind him.  
“This is our home,” he said, voice strong and authoritative. “It is now time to prove that we will defend it, at whatever cost it may take. The city calls on you for protection, not just from common bandits and petty thieves, but also in times of war. Come, new Companions of Ysgrimor! Defend your city and her honor!”

The militia had been muttering nervously among themselves, but any doubts were vanquished by Vilkas’ speech. He smiled wryly; he’d always been told he had a way with words. Vilkas just hoped that he hadn’t convinced the militia to walk to their deaths. But if there would be deaths that day, they would be good, honorable deaths. He supposed that was something, at least.

Vilkas turned to see his brother looking at him with grim determination in his eyes. They nodded, and turned together to face the captain of the guard. They didn’t need to speak, or move in any way. Every thought that needed to be communicated passed from eye to eye, and the captain lifted his sword arm. The militia and their Companions marched off to join the fray.

***

It was over so quickly. The lines had melted into nothing just after the militia had reinforced their Imperial allies, and Lydia found herself thrust into a chaotic scene. She fought without thinking, only reacting to the smallest changes in her surroundings. She noticed things that she would never have been able to notice if it weren’t the difference between life and death.

The Stormcloaks fought with the strength of those who believe in the righteousness of their cause. It pained her, seeing men and women who she otherwise may have found decent people fall at her hand. As housecarl, she’d fought bandits aplenty, wild animals, and a couple of dragons, but there was something different about fighting people who were fighting only because all attempts at finding another solution failed. But they would show her no mercy, and so neither could she. It was a simple fact of war.

She spent some time fighting next to the War-Bear, his hammer and her sword clearing a path through the rebel lines. She appreciated the help when they became briefly separated from the left flank of the Imperial army, and appreciated the Legionnaires who came to ensure that they did not have to fight the enemy alone.

And then, they were gone. The rebels turned, not all at once, but nearly so, and left the battlefield. It was littered with bodies and blood, the remains of arrows and broken, discarded shields. But it was quiet, and oddly peaceful. The battle was over. The defenses held. They had won.

***

Everybody who survived the battle had two things on their mind, seeing if their friends and family who had fought alongside them were still standing, and frantically searching the bodies if they were not. Peryn knew that he should be doing the same, and that people would be doing the same for him, but he could barely focus on anything besides the relative calm of the scene.

“Peryn! Peryn!” Peryn turned toward the sound of the voice calling his name, just in time to get plowed into by Lydia. “Gods, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” he said. “What kind of housecarl would you be if you couldn’t even keep your Thane alive, huh?” Lydia laughed, the sound coming across like it was halfway to a choked sob. She looked up, and Peryn could see tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Don’t joke about that,” she said, stepping back and blinking the tears away. “Somehow, you’ve grown on me, gods damn you.”

“I got that from the tackle,” Peryn said.

Lydia laughed again before looking out over the battlefield. There were some Legionnaires and militia members standing over corpses, all looking overwhelmed by grief, even from a distance. Peryn felt a wave of relief that he wasn’t out there, holding on to the hope that someone might, just maybe, still be alive.

He saw the twins next, a little ways off in the distance, holding on to one another as they climbed through the bodies. Peryn suspected that it was as much for help to not trip over the dead as it was for a clear reminder that they were alive. Peryn couldn’t imagine what would happen to one of the brothers without the other. They complimented each other well.

He looked back toward the city. Vaguely, he could see Rikke and the Jarl talking in the distance, probably discussing next steps. While the Stormcloaks had brought artillery, they never were in a position to put the city under a full siege, so most of the damage looked to be limited to the edge of the city and the walls themselves. Rebuilding didn’t look as though it would be a terribly long and difficult process, thank the gods.

Peryn wasn’t sure what to do now that the chaos had settled down. Normally, in the little skirmishes that he would get into every once in a while on the road, he would just go on his way after the fighting was over. That didn’t seem right here, and not just because Rikke probably wouldn’t like it. He also realized, slightly uncomfortably, that there wasn’t anywhere he would go. Whiterun was more or less his home, and most of the people he cared about were there, too, at least for the moment. Peryn had been a wanderer ever since he left High Rock several years ago, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the fact that he’d already begun to set up roots here.

“This was a bit different than what we’re used to, eh?” Farkas rumbled from behind him. Peryn turned to see the twins standing on the edge of the dirt road that led out of town. They weren’t holding onto each other anymore, at least not physically, but Peryn could tell that they were making sure to keep an eye on each other, even though they were safe.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Peryn said. “There was still killing, just a lot more of it than usual.”

“Battle lines were a new thing to get used to,” Vilkas said. “Even if the actual dirty work was the same, the tactics required for something like this are a lot different.”

Peryn shrugged. “My part was more or less the same. Maybe Rikke has to do things differently, but I still shoot where people point and swing a sword if someone gets too close.”

Farkas laughed. “Amen, brother,” he said. “Our job is the simple one.”

They were interrupted by a Legion soldier shouting over her shoulder as she passed by. “All Imperial personnel, report to Legate Rikke at the city gate!” she said, repeating the message as she walked toward another group clustered near the road.

“Well, I guess I should get going,” Peryn said. “We’ll celebrate this properly later.”

“Jorrvaskr is always looking for an excuse for a feast,” Vilkas said with a wry smile. “We’ll make sure to have one worthy of the gods for you.”

***

The first real thought Hadvar had when the battle was over was that he didn’t remember the colors being quite this bright when he woke up that morning. The world was slowly speeding back up to normal as he surveyed the battlefield. The lines had become so disorganized by the end that there were corpses on all sides of him, along with the soldiers who had survived. It chilled him a little to know that he was probably completely surrounded by the enemy at one point, even if they had been busy with the other Imperial soldiers to take any advantage of that.

He vaguely registered someone calling his name, and saw an Elf, Dunmer, that he sparred with sometimes gesture to where a crowd was gathering by Rikke and the Jarl. He nodded, smiled, and heard his voice thank the Elf for letting him know about the orders.

The fog over Hadvar’s mind cleared a little as he made his way to join the crowd. Some of the soldiers had a look of relief at being alive, others were in shock from seeing a friend fall next to them. They knew the risks, all of them did, but that didn’t mean that it hurt any less when someone was called to Sovengard.

When most of the soldiers had made their way to where the Jarl was standing, he began to speak.

“"Revel in your victory here today, even as the gods revel in your honor!” he began, voice strong and proud. Hadvar wasn’t sure how he was able to sound so joyful at that point, before the period of mourning had begun. He figured that part of that must come with being the Jarl. Keeping everyone’s spirits up was an important part of leading, he supposed. The Jarls wouldn’t be able to justify staying in charge if they couldn’t demonstrate why they were especially good for the job.

Balgruuf continued, “They already sing of your valor and skill! The halls of Sovngarde are no doubt ringing with your praises! In defeating these Stormcloak traitors, you have proven the hollowness of their cause and the fullness of your hearts. The citizens of Whiterun are forever in your debt! But Ulfric will not stop here. No, he will continue to strike out against any true Nord who remains faithful to the Empire. He will continue to sow discord and chaos wherever he can. And so, we must each one of us, continue to fight this insurrection, lest our fallen brothers have died for naught! Lest our honor be lessened should we allow these bloodthirsty beasts to prowl our lands! Carry on men, my gratitude and blessings go with you! For Whiterun! For the Empire!"

Hadvar felt a swell of pride as the Jarl ended his speech. Damn right the Empire had shown those Stormcloak bastards that they weren’t going to be beat. Ulfirc’s little rebellion would be over soon, Hadvar felt sure of it.

***

Peryn was quite drunk when he, Hadvar, and Lydia stumbled back to Breezehome after a feast combining the mead cellar of Jorvaskr and the pantry of Dragonsreach. Not that his companions were any better off than he was; everyone in the hall was noticeably intoxicated by the time they left. But it was a glorious time, filled with laughter and relief at being alive to sit at the table.

When Peryn woke the next morning, he scarcely had time for his brain to realize that he was awake before he decided he would much rather be asleep again. Peryn had had his fair share of long nights of drinking before, when he was down in Cyrodil and Elswyr, but he hadn’t actually been drunk since a few weeks before he started to travel towards Skyrim. Clearly he was out of practice.

Her heard Lydia and Hadvar moving about downstairs and groaned. He couldn’t go back to sleep if he was the only one, and he certainly couldn’t do it when he was a host. Not like Hadvar wasn’t as close to family as he had and welcome to stay at Breezehome as often as he wanted, but it was the principle of the thing.

He moved slowly to the kitchen, trying not to move too suddenly. Lydia glanced up as he walked down the ladder, giving him a smirk when he blinked and shook his head to clear it at the bottom. Peryn ignored her; it wasn’t like he needed anybody to tell him just how bad he look. He could feel it himself, after all.

Hadvar was standing over the fire, stirring something in the pot, and Lydia looked as though she had whatever she was doing under control, so Peryn decided to take the safe route and sit down before he felt any worse. He sat there for a few minutes before a bowl of porridge was placed in front of him and Hadvar joined him at the table.

“You look awful,” Hadvar said. Peryn laughed, unable to help himself despite the fact that all it did was add to the nausea and headache.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You look great.” He paused, thinking for a second. “Could still be drunk, though.”  
Hadvar snorted into his own bowl. “If that’s what it takes to get a compliment out of you, I need to get you drunk more often.”

 


	8. A False Front

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized as I was finishing this that I had the dates for the Great War wrong, so some things in previous chapters have been edited to be more in line with the actual timeline of the canon.

16 Morning Star, Fredas, 4E202 

Delphine was waiting, noticeably unhappily, when he arrived in the Sleeping Giant. 

“Care to explain what caused all of that confusion the last time we met?” she asked, hostility barely contained in her voice. 

“Paranoia. Not like it’s that foreign of an emotion to you,” Peryn said. He wondered how good of an idea it was to come here alone, though he knew it would be better for when he went to the Greybeards for some groveling and the last of his training. 

Delphine looked as though she was pondering that for a moment, then turned and walked toward her room. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder. 

Peryn followed her into the room and locked the door behind them. Delphine opened the false back to her closet, which Peryn had to admit was honestly kind of impressive, and the two of them went down to Delphine’s hideout. 

“How much did Hadvar tell you?” Delphine asked, leaning against a cabinet. Peryn scanned the room and got a distinct feeling that she probably shouldn’t be doing that, but it was her very expensive magical and alchemical equipment, not his. 

“As much as you told him,” Peryn answered. “Which is to say, almost nothing we didn’t already know. The dragons are coming back, there appears to be a pattern, and I’m here to kill a bunch of them.” 

“So why did you send him here?” Delphine raised herself off of the cabinet and folded her arms. “If you thought I didn’t have anything to offer, why bother coming in the first place?” 

“You already know the answer to that,” Peryn said. “The Horn. We needed to get that, and I couldn’t come here to get it. I had Imperial business to deal with.” 

“I’m guessing it involved the commotion at Whiterun,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Peryn was starting to get a little tired of people asking him questions that weren’t questions. And questions they knew the answers to. He was busy, gods damn it; he didn’t have time to stand around and let everyone he came across do some ego stroking just because they were somebody of minor importance. 

Peryn sighed back a snippy response and just nodded. As much as it irritated him to admit it, he was having separation anxiety, from Hadvar and Lydia and gods knew who else. It didn’t bother him as much in Windhelm because there just wasn’t time for something like that to be an issue when there were at least three imminent crises, but now that everything had settled down, at least relatively, he was beginning to realize how much he’d gotten used to having people around, and how much he disliked being alone when it came time to deal with things he didn't want to have to deal with. 

“So,” Delphine began, sounding almost as exhausted by the entire situation as Peryn was. “Dragons are coming back, you’re the Dragonborn, you’re also an Imperial soldier and a Companion, as well as Thane of Whiterun. And you’ve only been in Skyrim for about five months. Have I got all of that?” 

“More or less,” Peryn said. There were a couple of minor bits missing, but they didn’t really matter. Actually, he didn’t see exactly how everything besides the dragon-related things was particularly relevant, but he wasn’t going to point that out to Delphine. She disliked him enough as it was. 

“So you’re completely incapable of going into any city without being noticed and surrounded by a flock of people,” Delphine rubbed her forehead angrily. “That makes investigating things a lot harder.” 

“No, it just means that whatever investigating needs to be done should be done by the former soldier who’s successfully convinced a small town full of Nords to trust her,” Peryn rolled his eyes. “You know, I’m not seeing the problem with that plan. And,” he held up a hand as Delphine opened her mouth to interrupt him, “You don’t know me. I’m a lot better at the sneaking around, breaking into places deal than you might think. It’s far from my strongest skill set, but it’s there.” 

Delphine just groaned. Peryn could agree with that, at least. By the Nine he needed a nap. 

*** 

21 Morning Star, Middas, 4E202 

It was almost nightfall when Peryn reached the doors of High Hrothgar. He’d left Delphine to her research, whatever it was, with instructions to find him if something needed done. In the meantime, he had to deliver the Horn back to the Greybeards before they decided that he was a complete waste and told him not to come back. 

That was uncharitable, he thought, as Arngeir accepted the Horn with such reverence that it may well have been a baby. 

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to return with the Horn,” Peryn said, unable to meet the Greybeard’s eye. 

“You should not be,” Arngeir assured him. “I understand that you are involved with the events that are happening below us. I only ask that you consider the gravity of the World-Eater returning before his time, and consider his defeat a priority. If it is the only one you have, that is quite fortunate; if it is only one of many, that, too, is understandable, and a good thing in its own way.” 

“How so?” Peryn asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t expected Arngeir to approve of his other activities and commitments, especially not if they interfered with what the Greybeards wanted from him. 

“The world does not deserve to be saved just because it exists,” Arngeir said, a small smile playing on his lips. “That you are finding people you care about, and that you want to make the world you live in a better place, those are the reasons you will stop Alduin. Now come,” he extended a hand towards Peryn. “It is time for us to officially recognize you as Dragonborn.” 

*** 

Lydia and Farengar were in the market when the earth shook. The combined Voices of the Greybeards caused the stalls to rattle and at least a couple of people to lose their balance and fall to the ground, turning to look at the Throat of the World even as they picked themselves up off the ground. 

The Shouting went on for longer than it had last time, and when it stopped, the air remained still for several seconds before bursting into a flurry of energy. Farengar cocked an eyebrow at Lydia, who just shrugged in response. Peryn had told her that he was going to see the Greybeards when he left after the battle. He hadn’t looked particularly happy about it, but it wasn’t quite like he had a choice. Lydia wondered if she should be thanking the gods of cursing them, that her Thane was worlds apart from some minor nobleman like she’d been expecting. 

“I suppose we should go and discuss this with the Jarl,” Farengar said, as though the Greybeards’ Shouts were nothing more than a minor inconvenience to his plans for the afternoon. He briefly adjusted something in the basket he was carrying and set off toward Dragonsreach at a brisk walk. Lydia snorted. Why her brother was more used to the insanity than she was made no sense to her, especially because she was the one who had to deal with it on a daily basis. 

Proventus was waiting for them at the doors, clearly more than a little agitated, as he was wont to be. He ushered them to where the Jarl was sitting looking far calmer than his steward. 

“I assume you heard the latest round of Shouting?” he asked, when the entirety of his court was settled. Lydia nodded. Last time, the Shouts could be heard from across the province; she doubted that it was any different this time. 

“Do we have any idea what it means?” Proventus asked, his forehead creasing slightly. 

“The old Stories say that, once the Dragonborn proves himself worthy, he is recognized by the Greybeards. That is likely what we heard.” 

“Peryn did say he was going to see them,” Lydia said. “Said he had something to give them.” 

“Then it’s likely this item was something to prove his worth to the Greybeards,” Irelith said, nodding. “That would explain why they’ve decided that he is worthy now.” 

“So there’s nothing to worry about?” Proventus asked. 

The Jarl thought for a moment before responding. “Everyone knows now that the rumors of a Dragonborn were true,” he said. “That may well be dangerous, especially if people start knowing who the Dragonborn is.” 

*** 

 

22 Morning Star, Turdas, 4E202 

Hadvar felt that the lack of a door to the war-room was completely silly, since it meant that every passerby could hear anything General Tullius and Rikke were saying, not that there were many passers-by to overhear. They'd been moved to an area of the castle that was more central, yes, but it seemed more like a side dining room than a real war room. It also meant that he had no idea how he should enter the room after being summoned by a messenger that morning at breakfast and told to come here instead of reporting to the training yard; not like there was anything for him to knock on. 

He settled for just walking in quietly and waiting for the General to notice him. It took a good while; Hadvar came in during what appeared to be a somewhat heated whispered conversation between the Legate and Tullius. When General Tullius finally glanced up at him mid-sentence and did a double take, Hadvar hoped, just a little bit, that he’d officially snuck into the room. 

“You sent for me, sir?” Hadvar asked. Tullius nodded before turning to Legate Rikke, who moved to the other side of the table. 

“The battle at Whiterun may have been the decisive result we needed to end this stalemate of a war,” she said. “Our plans have to be changed now, in order to keep the advantage we’ve gained from that. We’re giving you command of a scouting team to get deep into Stormcloak territory and gather intelligence for us before we strike at the hold capitals.” 

“Command?” Hadvar asked. “Ma’am, I don’t have any experience with leading troops. There has to be someone better suited for this.” 

Rikke sighed. “We lost a lot of good soldiers at Whiterun,” she said after a moment’s pause. “We had to bring in more troops than we were comfortable with in order to ensure that we could take advantage of the situation, and that means that we have some holes that have opened up in the ranks.” She gave Hadvar a small smile. “I’ve actually had my eye on you for a little while, Hadvar. Aldis putting you up to training recruits wasn’t his idea, you know. I have complete confidence that you’ll me proud.” 

“Thank you,” Hadvar said. “I won’t let you down.” 

“There’s one more order of business to be taken care of right now, then,” Tullius said. “We’re officially going to move you into the Auxiliary corps. You haven’t been part of the rank-and-file since you started galivanting off with Gaerton after Helgen, and its high time we make that official. That comes, of course, with a promotion.” 

Tullius insisted on performing some small ceremony in the war room— “it is an important achievement, Hadvar”, he had said in a voice that made Hadvar both proud and uncomfortable—before he sent Hadvar to go and find his new soldiers. He wasn’t looking forward to the awkward beginnings of being a team, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to being tied down to a unit again, even though he was very honored by the promotion. His last thought before he walked into the courtyard where his new job waited was that he wished he could give Peryn the good news. 

*** 

27 Morning Star, Tirdas, 4E202 

“I’d like you to come to travel with Farkas,” Whitemane said. 

“Why, Harbinger?” Lydia asked. 

“You know that the Companions can trace our lineage back to the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgrimor. His axe was lost around the time the first Nords came to Skyrim, and we have made it part of our mission to investigate anything that might lead to its location. Well,” Whitemane paused, humming thoughtfully, “I suppose we’re looking for pieces of it more than anything. We have reason to believe it didn’t survive intact.” 

“What does this have to do with me?” 

“I am sending Farkas to search a place called Dustman’s Cairn for part of the blade of Wuuthrad, Ysgrimor’s axe. I wish for you to be his shield-sister on this mission.” 

"Why me?" She asked. 

Whitemane let out a small sigh. "We are not many, and we don't have the resources to have everyone go and investigate this. You and Farkas are not likely to lose any fights that you get in, and that is enough for me." 

“Harbinger?” Lydia asked, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“Yes, Housecarl?” 

“You called me Farkas’ shield-sister. Am I a Companion, then?” 

Whitemane snorted, but Lydia could see the twinkle in his eye clearly. “I must have misspoken,” he said. He always was a terrible liar. 

*** 

28 Morning Star, Middas, 4E202 

Peryn stood over the old woman’s body, breathing heavily from the exertion it took to kill her. He vaguely noticed Illia walk over from where she had been standing while she was hitting her mother with Destruction magic. 

“I’m sorry,” Peryn said, looking up at her. “Even with all of this, she was still your mother.” 

“Don't be sorry for me,” she said. “I just - if I would have known it would come to this.” Illia stopped and sighed. “Mother...” she said, gently kneeling down beside the body. 

“What are you going to do now?” Peryn asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Illia admitted. “I hadn’t thought that I’d actually be able to stop her, or that I could do anything besides run. But that doesn’t matter, now. Keep Mother's staff. Think of it as payment. I want to leave everything from this cursed place behind. Goodbye. And thank you.” 

As she turned to leave Peryn reached out and gently took her arm. “Wait,” he said. “You could come with me.” 

“I don’t know,” Illia said. “I know almost nothing about you, who you are or what you’re doing. I don’t want to risk getting pulled back into something as bad as the Hargravens, or worse.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose it would be better than sitting around thinking about all this. I could also do some good for a change, if you’re anything like what I’ve seen.” 

“I’d be glad to have you if you want to come and make a new life for yourself,” Peryn said. “I promise, there’s plenty of good people out there.” 

“I haven’t lived in this tower so long I’ve forgotten that,” Illia said with a wry smile. “But I think I will go with you, if you’ll have me.” 

*** 

They were a few hours walk from the tower, late enough in the day that Peryn was considering searching for good camping spots for the night, when he began to notice that Illia was acting a little off. 

He quirked an eyebrow and turning to face her fully. “Is everything all right?” he asked. 

Illia sighed and shook her head, though it looked more like she was trying to clear her thoughts than answer his question. “I think so,” she said. “It’s just a bit of a shock. This morning, I thought I’d be with the Hargravens for a long while longer, and now I’m walking away from the empty tower filled with their corpses.” 

“Believe me,” Peryn said. “My life has changed over the course of a day several times.” 

“Really?” she asked. “Why don’t you tell me about some of them?” 

Peryn’s first thought was to decline, or to pass it off as nothing too important, but for some reason, he couldn’t. He’d already helped this woman kill her own mother, and at that point he felt he could trust her in a wat he couldn’t trust anyone, not even Lydia and Hadvar. On brief reflection, he decided that he probably could trust them, actually, and the fact that they’d never asked about his past was a large part of why. 

“Peryn? You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Illia said. But he did want to say something, and so he did. 

He talked about the house he grew up in, and the family he once had. How his father used to find the best deals with all of the Redguard merchants that came up from Hammerfell, and how his mother used to have an herb garden that would be the envy of any alchemist in Skyrim, though she couldn’t brew a potion to save her life. He told her about when his mother fell ill and there was nobody who could do anything but ease her suffering. He told her about the day he became an orphan, how his father wasted away after the death of his wife. He told her of the Sack of Wayrest, where he saw his brother-in-law run through by a pirate’s sword and his sister raped on her own bed while he, barely old enough to raise a sword in his city's defense, lay crumpled and bleeding on the floor of her house. He told her about the fires, the ones that burned his house, and how he was found inches from death and covered in soot in the courtyard. 

“I haven’t been to High Rock since,” he said, when his mouth and throat were raw from all of the talking. “I ran. I ran as far away as I could possibly run, ending up in a Skooma den in central Elswyr.” 

Illia looked off into the distance beyond their camp. “I thought you were supposed to make me not want to go back to that tower,” she said eventually. 

Peryn smiled, just a little bit, at the wry humor. He knew asking Illia to come along was a good choice. “I had a good childhood,” he said. “My life just got a lot worse after Wayrest was sacked, even considering my parents were dead by that time." 

"How did you manage to keep going?" 

"I didn't," Peryn said. "Not for a good while. A Khajit got me sorted out eventually, after he found me sleeping in a gutter. He told me I'd be no good to anybody strung up on Skooma, especially not as young as I was. He was a smith and trained me for a couple of years until I could make my own arrowheads and some other basics. Then I set off with a trade caravan, headed north. I guess I think of everything I do now as a way of thanking him." 

"Is that why you gave me a second chance?" Illia asked. 

"If I deserved one, you do too," Peryn said. "I don't know if that's why, but it's as good as reason as any." 

*** 

4 Sun's Dawn, Tirdas, 4E202 

The Pale was bitterly cold at night, even to a party of Nords with thick furs wrapped tightly around them. Hadvar looked down on the path that led through the mountains and frowned. 

Rikke had told him that they might see a Stormcloak messenger using this road to carry orders from Windhelm to Dawnstar, but in the few days since they set up their small camp at the base of the mountain, they hadn't seen anything more than a couple of wolves that passed by on the first night. 

He saw Kirstina coming back from her patrol further away from the camp and cocked his head questioningly. She frowned and shook her head before moving toward the fire in an attempt to get warm. 

Hadvar liked his team, even though he'd only been with them for about a week. The others had worked together a couple of times before, and they took no time at all developing a comfortable atmosphere as they trekked through the wilderness toward the place Rikke had recommended for their ambush. He still wasn't entirely sure what being in command was supposed to mean, both in general for him and also when dealing with such a small group, so he mostly let them sort things out on their own, only stepping to make a decision if they couldn't decide who was taking what watch in a reasonable amount of time. 

Along with Kirstina, there were two other Nords, Ullne and Jugarik, and an Imperial, Mallus. Other than Ullne, and Hadvar himself, they were archers first and foremost. As Mallus put it, they could barely use a blade on anything larger than a potato. Still, they'd shown themselves to be observant and quiet, not to mention impressing Rikke, so Hadvar decided he could handle being the muscle of the group. 

Hadvar glanced back at the fire and tried to do a quick supply check in his head. He wasn't sure if he was right or not, but by his count they had enough food to wait for two more days, three at most, before turning back to the camp near the border with Hjallmarch. He really would rather not have to tell Rikke that they hadn't seen a damn thing all week. 

Nothing came the rest of his watch, and Hadvar fell into a fitfull sleep hoping that something would happen soon, or else they would have to go back with nothing to show for their troubles. He sure hoped Rikke knew what she was doing. 

*** 

Hadvar woke to Jugarik roughly shaking his shoulder in the predawn light. He sat up and blinked before noticing the look on Jugarik's face. 

"We've found her," he said. "Mallus just sent the signal; she should be coming past here any minute now. Hadvar jolted up and grabbed his bow and a quiver of arrows from where they lay next to him. Ullne and Kirstina were already moving down closer to the path to have a better chance at an ambush. 

The next several minutes were spent in tense silence, nobody daring move for fear that the slightest rustle of the brush could alert the Stormcloak courier to their presence. Hadvar hoped her guard would be a little down moving in friendly territory, but he didn't want to risk anything other than a quick attack. Hadvar could feel his joints stiffen and complain about the motionless crouch he was in, but he ignored the dull ache. His mouth was getting drier and direr with every passing second, and his grip on his bow was weakening until he thought he couldn't hold it anymore. 

And then she appeared, coming out from a small bend in the road. Hadvar didn't even process that he had fired until he heard the arrows slicing through the air to reach their target. 

The first one hit her in the chest, causing her eyes to widen in shock. The second pierced the cuirass she was wearing and tore into her stomach. She crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain, blood pooling out of the wounds, until she was silenced by the third arrow hitting her in the throat. The Stormcloak fell forward, unmoving. 

They moved the body off the side of the path, hidden from any other passersby. Hadvar thought it was an almost unnecessary precaution, but certainly not one he was willing to risk skipping. He rummaged through her pockets for a minute, before finding what he had been searching for: the message she carried. 

"Here," he said. "I've got what we came for. Bury the body and tear down camp. We need to get back to Rikke as soon as we can." 

He wasn't sure how to feel about the mix of pride and shame in the atmosphere as they got to work.


	9. Proving Honor

7 Sun’s Dawn, Loredas, 4E202 

“Peryn!” Aldis called from behind him, stopping Peryn in the doorway to Castle Dour. He turned, unsure of which expression would suit the situation. After a moment’s thought, he gave up and schooled his face into as neutral an expression as possible. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said. 

“I didn't know you were back in Solitude,” Aldis said. “I hear your meeting with the Greybeards was eventful.” 

“You listen to rumors, sir?” Peryn asked. He would have thought Aldis was above gossiping. 

Aldis laughed, sounding remarkably like a bear. “No,” he said. “But I do listen when loud voices in the sky start Shouting.” 

“The Greybeards are quite loud,” Peryn agreed. “Especially when they’re Shouting directly at you.” 

Aldis nodded. "The general wanted to see you when you returned. He's got a job for you. My guess is it's related to why Rikke left about a week ago." 

"I won't keep him waiting, then," Peryn said, turning toward the castle. Aldis nodded, and turned back to the courtyard, stopping to yell at some recruit about her form. That was Aldis, sure as anything. 

General Tullius was hunched over some papers in the war room. Peryn knocked on the open door as he entered, drawing the general's attention to him. 

"Auxilliary," he dipped his head in greeting. "I take it your meeting with the Greybeards went well." 

"Well as I could expect," Peryn said, shrugging. "Aldis said that you wanted to see me?" 

"I did. I have a couple of things for you. First, by defeating Ulfric at Whiterun we have solidified the allegiance of the Jarl. Perhaps the Stormcloaks will soon lose heart for this little rebellion of theirs once and for all. I'm promoting you to Quaestor. Take this blade, a symbol of your new station and responsibility. I'll keep an eye on your progress. The Empire rewards excellence, and so do I." 

"Thank you," Peryn said, accepting the sword from him. "I can't help but feel like this is partially for appearances, though." 

"It is," Tullius assured him. "Normally, it would take a lot longer to get a promotion, even for someone as talented as you. But you did deserve it, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You've proven yourself to me a couple times already." 

"Yes, sir," Peryn said. "Do you have any orders for me?" 

"You'd be wasted as a regular soldier. I have special plans for you. You'll be of greater use to me with greater flexibility," Tullius said. "And we both know that your other duties may have to come before your Imperial service, at least temporarily. You'll be reporting directly to me or Rikke from now on. No more of this technically under Aldis nonsense. For now, make your way to our hidden military camp in the Pale. Rikke will have important tasks for you and will need you when we reclaim the capital." 

"I'll leave as soon as I can," Peryn said. 

"One more thing," Tullis said as Peryn was leaving the room. "Do you have any of your hangers-on with you?" 

"Yes," Peryn said. "An Imperial mage. She's quite skilled. Why do you ask?" 

"Rikke requested a few more men in preparation for something. I just got the letter this morning, but I think you and one of your fellow forces of nature should be enough for her." 

"My forces of nature?" Peryn asked, with a slight smile. 

"Don't pretend like everybody who ends up with you doesn't end up being one of the most efficient fighters in the province. Must be the damned dragon soul." Tullius said, almost without humor. "I'll have to put you in charge of training the recruits one day. The Legion would be completely undefeatable." 

*** 

Lydia glanced down the old staircase that led down to the lower levels of Dustman's Cairn. The crypt was dark, smelly, and full of draugr, and while Lydia certainly didn't mind these things, she defiantly preferred places that were warm, well lit, and full of food. That was just normal, after all. 

"So, who was this scholar, anyway?" She asked. 

Farkas shrugged. "I don't know. A smart man came and told us about a blade piece. Whitemane wants us to find it. Mostly you. I think he'd be happy if I found it, though." 

"Right," Lydia said, stepping into the next open room. "So, what, it'll be sitting out on a table, just waiting for us to find it?" 

Farkas shrugged again. "I don't see why not. It's not like people have been coming down here for festivals." Lydia figured he had a point. 

They kept moving until they found a room they couldn't get out of. More accurately, they found the door pretty quickly, but it was locked. They split up to try to find a way to unlock it. 

"Ah, damn," Lydia said, as she heard the grate slide out of the floor behind her. She turned away from the level to look at the bars that had appeared to lock her in the room. Farkas came over, his attention drawn by the noise of metal scraping against rock. 

"Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into," he said, a grin appearing on his face. Lydia thought that was rather rude, considering. She glared at him. "No worries," he said, putting his hands up, though the grin only got wider. "Just sit tight. I’ll find a release." 

"The sooner the better," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. She wasn't mad at Farkas, or even herself, not really, but there wasn't much that was fun about being stuck in a tiny cell. He turned around to start looking for some way to lower the grate, muttering to himself. After a few seconds, he froze. 

"What was that?" he asked, sounding a little nervous. The door they'd been looking for the key to suddenly swung open and five well-armored Nords came out of the hallway. 

"Which one is that?" One of the women asked. 

Another shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He wears that armor, he dies." He looked Farkas dead in the eye. "Killing you will make for an excellent story." 

"None of you will be alive to tell it," Farkas said, dropping his sword. Lydia watched as his already impressively large muscles seemed to double in size, and fur began to grow across his arms. The Nords began to shout in excitement and moved to attack Farkas, who took out two with a swipe of his now massive hand before clawing the other three. Once they were all dead, Lydia watched the fur and muscles recede until just the Farkas she knew was left, armor lying on the floor in a pool of blood. 

"I hope I didn't scare you," he said, "I think the way to get you out of there is over here." He went through the door, and a second later Lydia watched the bars go back into the holes they had been hidden in. 

Lydia stepped out and picked up Farkas' armor unthinkingly. She held it out wordlessly when he returned to the room. 

"Thanks," he said, starting to put it back on. Lydia noticed that it looked as though it was designed to be ripped off like it was during the...transformation, for lack of a better word. 

"What was that?" She asked when he had finished. 

"It's a blessing given to some of us. It can make us like wild beasts. Fearsome." Farkas said. "Vilkas and Kodlak don't like it much, but Skjor and Aela tell me it's something I should use more often." 

"Who were those people?" She asked. "Why did they try to kill you?" 

"It doesn't matter," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Eyes on the prey, not the horizon." 

"That's a load of shit, Farkas." Lydia jabbed a finger into his chest, only narrowly avoiding jamming it on the armor he was wearing. "People who popped out of a locked door to kill you definitely matter, and I deserve to know why if they're going to be trying to kill me, too." 

Farkas sighed. "They're called the Silver Hand," he said after a moment. "They're bad people who don't like werewolves, so they don't like us, either. That's as far as I care to know." 

Lydia just wanted to get the damn axe shards and then go home and hit things. She didn't mind when she got to hit things with Farkas in the crypt instead of having to wait that long. 

*** 

10 Sun's Dawn, Tirdas, 4E202 

The Pale Imperial Camp was as cold as any place Peryn had ever been, and that included the Throat of the World. How the Nords were able to survive up here, and not just survive, but be comfortable, was completely beyond him. Some of the men around the fire were wearing nothing more than some light armor, while Peryn was wearing what felt like an entire bear on top of his. He was still cold. 

"Thank the Gods," Illia said. "I thought I was going to turn into an ice sculpture out there." Peryn hummed his agreement, scanning the camp for the command tent. He figured that's where Rikke was most likely to be, since he could tell that she wasn't at the fire. 

"I need to go talk to the woman in charge," he said when he found it. "Go warm yourself up." 

"Don't need to tell me twice," Illia said, moving off toward the fire. Peryn could see her relax as soon as she got close enough to feel the heat before he turned to push aside one of the flaps of the command tent. 

"Ah, Peryn," Rikke said, looking up as soon as she noticed someone entering the tent. "It's good to see you. I'm guessing you're the reinforcements I sent for?" 

"Aye, ma'am," he said. 

Rikke frowned. "That's damned unfortunate. Not that you're not useful, but those were two distinct requests. Just because you're a good soldier doesn't mean you're all I need right now; low numbers be damned." 

"What do you need me to do?" Peryn asked. 

"Hadvar dropped by the other day with a very interesting report," she said. "It seems that all the reinforcements intended for Fort Dunstad have been redirected elsewhere. In unrelated news," she smiled and held up some papers, "We've come into possession of the orders that would have sent them to Fort Dunstad. I'm sure you can figure out the rest." 

"Hadvar, engaging in subterfuge?" Peryn asked. "I'm impressed. Didn't think he had it in him." 

Rikke smirked at him in a way that made Peryn ever so slightly uncomfortable. It was as though she was aware of what was going on in his head. 

"I've sent a team to Fort Dunstad to prepare to attack. Be a good man and help them get it back in Imperial hands. We'll garrison the fort once you take it." 

"Consider the fort yours," Peryn said. 

"I gave the mission to you, didn't I? I already do," Rikke smiled before shooing him out of the tent. 

"Illia!" Peryn called after stepping back into the cold of the Pale. She perked up from where she had been standing next to the fire and chatting with a couple of Legionnaires. "We've got orders!" She sighed before hauling herself to her feet and walking over to him. 

"What's the plan?" She asked. 

"We go to a fort, we kill the rebels there," Peryn said. Illia nodded. 

"Sounds simple enough. Just us or do we have help?" 

"Rikke says help is already there." 

"Hm," Illia said. "I was kind of looking forward to killing lots of people without any help." 

Peryn briefly considered that he was starting to attract some strange characters before remembering that he was probably the strangest of all. 

*** 

12 Sun's Dawn, Turdas, 4E202 

"Reinforcements came last night," Ullne said when Hadvar joined her at the fire for breakfast. 

"How many?" Hadvar asked her. 

"Just two," she said. "Breton and Imperial. Both battlemages, from the looks of them, though the Imperial wasn't wearing Legion armor. Silius didn't look happy that it was just the two of them, but the Breton seemed happy about our numbers." She laughed. "I almost thought he was a Nord for a minute, then I saw how much he was shivering." 

"This...this Breton," Hadvar asked. "Was he bigger than most? Black hair, heavy armor and a bow?" 

"That's the one," Ullne said. "Why? D'you know him?" 

Hadvar didn't bother answering before standing up. "Where is he?" He asked. 

Ullne pointed to one of the tents on the outside of the small camp, and Hadvar set off in its direction. "Wait! Why are you so interested in him?" Ullne asked, standing up to follow him. Hadvar ignored her and kept walking towards where she had pointed. 

Hadvar poked his head inside the tent. An Imperial woman he'd never seen before was sitting on the ground, doing something with her magic that Hadvar couldn't quite understand. On one of the bedrolls was her companion, the Breton—Peryn. Hadvar recognized him instantly. 

"Can I help you?" The Imperial asked, putting away her magic. Hadvar was taken aback a little bit, having forgotten about her as soon as he saw Peryn. "Is something wrong?" 

"Um...no, everything's fine." Hadvar said, not taking his eyes of Peryn's sleeping figure. "Just...uh, just making sure everything is fine over here." 

"We certainly don't need anything," the Imperial said, a little roughness coming into her voice. "Well, he needs his sleep, so why don't you come back when you actually need something." 

Hadvar felt his face flush and was about to apologize—honestly, what had gotten into him? —and slink back to the fire with his tail between his legs when Peryn slowly blinked his eyes open. 

The Imperial looked irritated and opened her mouth to say something, but Peryn beat her to it. 

"Hadvar?" He asked, then hummed gently. "This is now a good dream. Much better." 

"It's good to see you," Hadvar said softly. 

"I miss you. Probably why I'm dreaming about you." With that, Peryn turned over, and his breathing slowed. 

The Imperial woman gave Hadvar a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Go on," she said. "I'll make sure he finds you when he really wakes up. I get the feeling you'd both want that." 

Hadvar nodded and ducked out of the tent, only to walk into Ullne, whose eyes were shining. "Care to tell me what that was about?" She asked. 

"Go away," Hadvar said, playfully shoving her towards a tree. He still had a smile on his face, though, so he knew she wasn't going to take him seriously. 

"I'll go right to everyone else and we can gossip together," Ullne said, looking less like a deadly warrior and more like a young girl. "Figure out who your mystery man is." 

"You leave him alone," Hadvar said, more seriously this time. "I won't have you scaring him off." 

Ullne nodded. "You got it. I'm sure we'll have to drag Mallus away, but he'll manage. Besides," she grinned, "He seems to like you. Don't want to ruin that, now do we?" 

Hadvar growled and shoved her into a snowbank, which she fell into with a yelp. He thought it served her right. 

*** 

When Peryn woke, Illia was still sitting in the tent working on her magic. He yawned and stretched before sitting up fully. 

"Do we know the plans?" He asked. 

Illia shook her head. "I think some of the others are down at the fire, but nothing's happened yet. You've slept a fair bit, you know. It's not far from midday." 

Peryn swore and started to put on his armor. He didn't want to cause any delays just because he was asleep. That could wait until the fort wasn't in enemy hands. 

"I'm going to find some food," Illia said, rising from her spot on the floor. "You should come, too. I doubt you'll be nearly as useful to anybody if you die of starvation." 

Peryn left a few minutes later, finding Illia seated near the fire talking to a couple of Nords. He nodded in greeting to them before grabbing a bowl and scooping himself some of the stew that was cooking in a pot suspended from the spit. 

"Already making friends, I see," he said, sitting down on a log that had been moved next to the fire. 

Illia smirked. "That started a while ago," she said. One of the Nords stood up after a moment and walked toward the edge of the camp. 

"Where's he going?" Peryn asked. 

"Who, Jugarik?" The other Nord asked. "He's just taking over the watch, nothing to worry about." Peryn returned his focus to his breakfast until he heard someone sit next to him. 

"Good morning," he said, not glancing up to see who the newcomer was. He didn't want to be rude, but he didn't feel much like socializing. 

"You were a lot happier to see me earlier," the man said, and Peryn's head shot up to look at Hadvar, who had a bit of a smug grin on his face. 

"I didn't know you were here," Peryn said. He could feel a smile coming over his face and shifted a little so that he was right next to Hadvar. He didn't mind leeching some body heat from a friend in the middle of winter, after all. 

"You already talked to me this morning," Hadvar said. 

"No, I didn't," Peryn said. "I just woke up. I did dream about you though. It was a lot better than the part of the dream that came before it, I can promise you." 

Hadvar laughed, and Peryn could feel his body vibrate from where their arms were touching. His smile got a little bit wider. "That was real. Well, it was if your dream was just me talking to you for a minute." 

"You looked absolutely ridiculous," Illia informed them from, before turning back to her conversation with the Nords. Peryn huffed. There was absolutely nothing wrong at all with being happy to see someone, and it didn't matter if he was awake at the time or not. Apparently, he was making some kind of face, because Hadvar threw an arm around him in a hug made slightly awkward by their position. 

"I was too busy being happy to see you to worry about whether or not you looked ridiculous," he said. Peryn was unsure if he should feel betrayed by the implication that he did, in fact, look ridiculous at the time, but decided instead to lean into his own personal heater instead. It was cold enough that his pride could handle the indignity of it all. He made a couple of grumbling noises before going back to his stew, earning himself a couple of looks from the assembled Nords. 

After a couple minutes of eating, Peryn turned his head to look up at Hadvar. "What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, besides the obvious. Weren't you doing something involving stealing documents?" 

One of the Nords laughed. "Try looting documents," she said. "It's hardly pickpocketing if the person wearing the pockets is dead." Hadvar shot the woman a look. 

"Kirstina," Hadvar said, in a tone that sounded like he was trying to be stern. It almost didn't completely fail, but the woman, Kirstina, probably, ruined the effect by continuing to smirk. 

"Sorry, sir," she said, sounding not very sorry at all. 

"Rikke put some of these ingrates under me after I got promoted," Hadvar said, turning back to Peryn. "We're officially a scout team, but with the increase in skirmishes after Whiterun, we got sent here to help with taking the fort." 

Peryn smacked Hadvar's breastplate. "You didn't tell me you got a promotion. That's important news!" 

"I forgot," Hadvar said, shrugging. "It doesn't seem like it matters that much." 

"I don't think he can be blamed for not thinking about his promotion right away," Illia said. "I'm sure there were other things on his mind. It's not like you remember everything right away, either." 

Peryn was silent for a moment. "Oh," he said. "Right. I feel like I should tell you. I got a promotion." It was a miracle everyone's laughter didn't alert the enemy to the camp above the fort.


	10. Retake the Pale

12 Sun's Dawn, Turdas, 4E202

They attacked that night, after the majority of the Stormcloak garrison had gone to bed. The watchmen were taken out by arrows simultaneously before the Imperial Troops swarmed the main gate. Peryn had to give Captain Vanin credit; she'd known how to best use their limited numbers. He also understood why she'd requested additional help. Hadvar's men, Peryn, and Illia made up all of the archers and all but one of the mages in the camp.

Once they'd taken the courtyard, the rest of the Stormcloaks hadn't taken long to either fall in battle or surrender. Vanin had accepted all of them, though she had to temporarily lock them in the prison, since there weren't enough Legionnaires to make sure they didn't get up to anything funny while their backs were turned.

Peryn was the only mage with any healing ability whatsoever, so he was sent around to handle the wounds. They were lucky, only losing two of Vanin's men during the assualt, though Ullne and Mallus had both taken solid hits from the damned rebels.

"You know," Peryn said as he gave Kirstina the once over, "I'd like to hear a bit about how you managed to convince the Stormcloaks that they didn't need to reinforce this place. It's in a pretty important place, isn't it? Somewhere they'd probably want extra troops, just to be safe."

"That was all Hadvar," she said. "He ran ahead to get the orders to Rikke, then waltzed right into Dawnstar in a stolen uniform. They all thought he was just new to the route, since there isn't a whole lot that comes to Dawnstar over land."

"You're clear," Peryn said, pushing her away. "Just a little singed hair, but I suppose that's my fault."

"You and your damn atronachs," Kirstina agreed. "Am I good to find Vanin, then?" Peryn nodded before turning his attention to Ullne and Mallus, who were lying on makeshift beds of straw. He'd wanted to move them inside, but Vanin wouldn't hear of sending a perfectly good fighter away from where any fighting might occur.

"Right," he said, turning to Ullne. "Let's get you patched up."

***  
Hadvar passed Kirstina on his way to make sure that Ullne and Mallus were doing alright. Vanin had sent somebody back to the camp to tell Rikke that they were ready for a full garrison of the fort, but she had said not to expect anything for a couple of days, so they would have to make do without a lot of support.

Peryn's makeshift infirmary was set up in a corner of the courtyard, underneath a small overhang that supported a torch. He also had a magic light following him around as he moved from place to place, looking quite at home.

"I'm going to need you to move so I can get to your shoulder," he told Mallus, who just groaned. "Fine, then," Peryn snapped. "Bleed out. See if I care." That got the Imperial to shift his body so that Peryn could reach his injury.

"You've got great bedside manner," Hadvar told him.

"It's not my fault that the wounded don't just do as they're told," Peryn said, rolling his eyes. "Something about pain and wanting to avoid more."

"Vanin says to get some sleep after you finish with them," he said. Peryn snorted.

"Where?" He asked. "On the ground? It's not like I can leave them here alone in the cold, but I sure as Oblivion couldn't sleep out here, and I don't trust moving them, especially not—gods, woman!" He rushed over to Ullne, who was trying to sit up. "I'm not that good, gods damn it. You'll only make your leg worse if you put weight on it now."

"You should probably listen to him," Hadvar said, giving her a small smile of sympathy. "He's as close to a healer as we've got right now."

"And Mara give me the strength to do it," Peryn said, turning back to Mallus. "Now, back to fixing you up. Hadvar, make yourself useful and hold his arm down. It can't move while I try to fix the muscle."

Hadvar did as he was told and watched as the magic flowed from Peryn's hands, knitting the muscle and skin in Mallus' shoulder back together.

"If you pick up something heavier than your boot it'll ruin that," Peryn told him. Mallus nodded numbly. "You'll both be fine, as long as you don't do anything for at least the rest of the night. If you think I'm grouchy now, wait until you see me after I have to wake up and do this all over again." He motioned for Hadvar to follow him away from the alcove.

"Do you think Vanin could spare someone to keep an eye on them and wake me up if anything changes?" Peryn asked.

Hadvar shook his head. Realistically, they didn't have the people here to put someone on patient-watching duty, and Vanin didn't seem like the kind of person who would take that kind of risk.

Peryn sighed. "Of course not. I guess I'll have to make do out here. There's probably enough straw for another bed. Can you see if there's a blanket inside that isn't being used? Actually," he glanced back at Mallus, "Probably a couple, at least."

Hadvar nodded and took off back into the fort itself. Fortunately, there were plenty of beds that hadn't been occupied by the resting Imperial soldiers. He gathered up as many blankets as he could comfortably carry and started toward the door.

"Hadvar!" He heard Vanin's voice. "What in Oblivion are you doing?"

"Peryn doesn't think it's safe to move the wounded inside," he said. "He wanted me to fetch some things so they could all sleep out there."

Vanin nodded. "Carry on, then. And then come back here and get some sleep yourself. I want you to go through the storerooms here and at that tavern tomorrow and see how many supplies we're going to need to find a way to get out here."

When he made it back to the courtyard, Peryn was sitting on the edge of his new bed, which was nothing more than some straw strewn on the ground. At least Ullne and Mallus were balanced on some crates, but Peryn had barely anything between himself and the frozen ground.

"This is ridiculous," Hadvar said, setting the blankets down in front of Peryn.

"It's not like I have a choice," he said. "Don't worry about me, I can handle it for a night. Granted, it might be a minor miracle if I have all of my fingers in the morning."

"I wouldn't want to sleep out here if I didn't have to, and I barely feel cold," Hadvar said. "I don't like it."

"That's life," Peryn said with a shrug, adjusting the blankets around Mallus. He and Ullne looked to be sleeping about as soundly as they could be expected to. Finished with that, he moved back to his own bed, still followed by that small ball of light that had been hovering around his shoulders all night.

"Vanin told me to get some sleep, myself," Hadvar said.

"Goodnight," Peryn said, waving his hand and causing the light to wink out of existence. Hadvar sat down on the bed, grabbing the two remaining blankets he'd gotten from the inside of the fort.

"What are you doing?" Peryn asked.

"I'd like it if you had all your fingers in the morning," Hadvar said. "I can handle sleeping out here for a night."

Peryn laughed and lay down next to him. "I guess I can't complain about my own personal fire."

"What do you mean?" Hadvar asked.

Peryn glanced up at him and reached out to brush some hair off his face. "You've got bright red hair and keep away the cold. All you're missing is the fiery personality."

"I don't know if I can do that one," Hadvar admitted.

"Don't worry," Peryn said, burying his head into the space between Hadvar's shoulder and neck. "I think you're just about perfect the way you are."

***

15 Sun's Dawn, Sundas, 4E202

"Lydia knows," Farkas said.

"She does?" Whitemane said. "That's not terribly surprising, I suppose. She's always been a quick one."

"The Silver Hand were at Dustman's Cairn. The fragments were, too, but they knew we were coming."

"Indeed they did," Whitemane agreed. "That's not good news at all."

"What are we going to do?" Vilkas asked from where he had been resting against the table. "They're a danger to us and the rest of the Companions if they're setting ambushes like this."

"Right now, we wait," the Harbinger said. Vilkas opened his mouth to argue, didn't say anything. Farkas wished he would. Kodlak always said that while he might be the leader, they were all free to think he was wrong. If Vilkas thought he was wrong, then it was worth saying. Farkas knew he wasn't going to be the one making a bunch of arguments in front of the rest of the Circle.

He said that to Vilkas when they left the Harbingers Quarters, earning himself nothing more than a shake of the head. "What's the point of having a leader if everyone can ignore him whenever they want?" Vilkas asked.

"What's the point of a Circle if we don't give advice?" Farkas responded. "Everyone here knows that Kodlak wants you to be the next Harbinger, but you can't do that if you don't know what that means."

Vilkas sighed and massaged his eyes with his hand. "I know what it means to be the Harbinger. Why do you think I've been learning so much about our history?"

"So you can use that as a way to avoid thinking that maybe you don't actually know what it means to be Harbinger."

Farkas left feeling proud of that one.

***

20 Sun's Dawn, Fredas, 4E202

Mzinchaleft was huge, in a word. The Dwarven ruin, despite being hidden among the mountains, still managed to stand tall over its surroundings in a way that reminded Peryn of Windhelm.

"Serious question," Illia said, as they stood on the hill above the ruin. "Do you really think it's a good idea for the two of us to go dungeon delving in there alone?"

Peryn considered that for a moment. Yes, he'd wanted to come and retrieve Grimsever while he was in the area, but everything he'd heard about the Dwemer's ancient cities, despite all of the conflicting reports, agreed on one thing: they were very dangerous.

"No," he said. "Let's not. That seems like a good way to get us killed."

"That's what I thought," Illia said. "Though I suppose this says nothing but good things about your friend's skills as a warrior, if she went in there alone and came out only missing her sword."

"Mjoll is certainly a singular woman," Peryn agreed. "I think we should call in a couple of favors and come back here with a few more people."

"How much of that is just because you want to see what the inside looks like?" Illia asked.

"No comment."

***

25 Sun's Dawn, Middas, 4E202

Lydia was about to leave to join the Companions for dinner when there was a knock at the door. She frowned. The only people who'd ever bothered to come by Breezehome were the twins and her brother, but Farkas and Vilkas were going to be at Jorrvaskr, and Farengar never came by this late.

She opened the door to see an Imperial woman standing it mage's robes, looking hesitant. "Lydia?" She asked. Lydia nodded.

"Is there something I can do for you?" She asked.

"My name is Illia. I've been traveling with Peryn for the last month or so. He's looking for some people to help him get into a Dwemer ruin up in the Pale."

"Why does he want to do that?" Lydia asked.

"He said that a friend of his lost a sword in that ruin," Illia said. "Though I think part of it is just so he can have fun playing around in an ancient ruin."

"Both of those sound a lot like him," Lydia agreed. "But why couldn't he come and tell me this himself?"

"He had to report back to Tullius about the Legion. We took back a fort in the Pale. And he said he was going to find somebody else while he was up there."

Lydia leaned against a chair that was pushed into the table. "I suppose we should go then," she said. "I hope you'll forgive me for trying to bring someone else along. Kidnapping a Housecarl does sound like the kind of idiotic thing someone who didn't like Peryn would try to do."

"If whoever you want to bring with you brings his own food, I couldn't care less," Illia said, shrugging. "The more dangerous friends I have, the better."

Lydia decided to give the Imperial an invitation up to Jorrvaskr, since there wasn't much point in sending her off to the inn instead of getting to know her. Vilkas asked who her friend was when they sat down, but other than him, nobody seemed to care much that there was someone else at the huge table of the Companions.

After dinner, Lydia helped the twins and Tilma clean up, like she usually did. Farkas took the opportunity to ask about the Imperial who'd come with her.

"Apparently Peryn sent her to find me," Lydia said. "I wanted to ask you, actually. She seems nice enough, but I don't think following a strange woman out into the wilderness alone just because she says she knows my Thane is a good idea."

"Probably not," Farkas agreed. "But what would she do?"

"Oh, maybe kidnap me and hold me for ransom, either the Jarl's or Peryn's. Or even yours, now that everybody knows I associate with Companions." Lydia said. "People who spend time with the rich and famous are always targets."

"I think you overestimate all of us," Farkas said. "We're dangerous, not swimming in money."

Lydia shrugged. "That's something that we know, but the people idiotic enough to try to kidnap a Housecarl might not. Anyway, the point is, I want you to come with me, if you can."

"Why?"

"Even if she's telling the truth, Peryn wants to go exploring a Dwarven ruin," Lydia said. "Or, to put it another way, he wants to do something dangerous enough he's actually preparing for it instead of just poking his head inside every cave he passes, like he usually does."

"I don't know if I can just up and leave," Farkas said, frowning. "I might not be the brains of this operation, but I still have training for the whelps and other things I have to take care of."

"And those are important," Vilkas said, returning from outside. He turned to Lydia. "But you know that," he said, "So I'm a little curious as to why you want my brother to ignore his duties."

"An Imperial came to see me today and said that my Thane, who is your Shield-Brother," she reminded them, "Wants to investigate a Dwemer ruin. He seems to understand how dangerous that is, but there is also the possibility that she's lying and this is a trap, since I've never met her before in my life. I'd rather not go into a trap alone, if I can help it."

Vilkas nodded. "You're getting paranoid," he noted, "Not that I think that's a bad thing. Talk to Whitemane, if you really want Farkas to go with you. He'll probably say yes, Talos damn him."

"You should come, too," Farkas said. Vilkas gave him a look.

"You know perfectly well I can't do that," he said. "I've got too much to do here."

"You haven't gotten out in weeks," Farkas said. "I think Kodlak would understand if you wanted to actually do something. Besides," he added, "I'm still not sure what Skojr and Aela do around here, exactly. I think putting them in charge of the whelps for a while might do them some good."

"Fine," Vilkas sighed, "But only because I know you won't let it drop if I say no. If the Harbinger thinks it's a good idea, I'll go with you."

The Harbinger thought it was an excellent idea. Vilkas looked incredibly put out by this, but he didn't seem all that surprised. Lydia got the feeling that Whitemane was getting more and more eager to get Vilkas to learn the things he'd been trying for years to teach him. Maybe a bit of time away from the structure of the Circle would do him some good.

Lydia noticed that Illia seemed very happy with the addition of the twins to the group. When she asked why, the Imperial shrugged. "Peryn's good people," she said. "I'm glad he's got friends, people who will help him when he needs it."

***

3 First Seed, Tirdas, 4E202

Peryn was about to leave to collect water when he heard people approaching the makeshift camp he and Kharjo had set up on their return to Mzinchaleft. He grabbed his bow from his back and checked the number of arrows in his quiver before starting toward the sound. Whoever it was wasn't trying to be quiet at all, so either he had nothing to worry about or he was about to be completely outmatched in a fight.

He recognized the Wolf Armor first and relaxed, drawing himself out of the rocky outcropping. With Farkas and Vilkas were Illia and Lydia, who noticed him first and pointed him out to her companions.

"Good morning!" He called down to them, getting waves from Lydia and Farkas. Peryn leaned against the outcropping and waited for them to reach him.

"We've camped just over this hill," he said, after drawing Lydia and the twins in for hugs. "Kharjo and I have done a little scouting since we got here yesterday. It looks like there's some bandits using the ruins as a base."

Lydia smirked. "So we get to do our public duty and explore an ancient ruin? You spoil me."

Peryn laughed and threw an arm around her. "I try," he said. "Nothing but the best for the woman who helps me kill dragons."

"I feel like we should get on a list somewhere," Vilkas said. "Maybe then we'll get to join in the dragon killing one day."

"It's mostly following him around and hoping one shows up. Or doesn't, since they're very dangerous and have very large teeth," Lydia said.

"Not that I'm complaining," Peryn said, glancing up at Farkas. "But why are the two of you here? I only asked Illia to find Lydia."

"Lydia asked us," Farkas said. "She thought this might be a trap."

"You're getting paranoid," Peryn said, giving Lydia a small smile. "I'm proud of you. It's very useful sometimes."

She laughed and ducked her head. "Come on," she said. "Let's go have some fun."


	11. Mzinchaleft

3 First Seed, Tirdas, 4E202 

The bandits had some defenses on the outside of the ruins, but they were no match for five professional fighters and one very talented Imperial mage. Peryn almost felt sorry for them, what with how quickly they were overwhelmed, but then he saw the pyre where they'd burned the corpses of their victims, and he felt significantly less sorry. 

The entrance to the ruins was straightforward, and the bandits inside barely more of a problem than the ones outside, but eventually they came to a branching path. 

"I think, since there's so many of us, we should split up," Peryn said. 

"I agree," Kharjo said, flicking his ears. "Khajit has been to ruins like this before. They are quite large. Too large to stay together." 

"Three people should be enough to stay together," Vilkas said, "But I'm worried about us getting lost. How can we find each other if we need to?" 

"That's easy," Peryn said. "Or, it could be, at least. Illia," he said, turning to the Imperial. "You can summon a familiar right? That's pretty basic Conjuration." 

"Of course I can," she said. "I spent my time with a woman who was trying to become a Hargraven. Everyone in that damn tower knew Conjuration." 

"Then that's how we'll do it," Peryn decided. "I'll just have to do without my Atronachs so I can summon my own if I need to. Illia and I will have to be in different groups so we can communicate. Everybody else, any preferences?" 

"I'd guess that the twins want to stay together," Lydia said. 

Farkas shrugged. "It's not a big deal one way or the other," he said. 

"Khajit wishes to remain with the Breton," Kharjo said. "It makes me feel less like a mercenary." 

"I'll join you," Lydia told him. "Take care of these two, Illia, will you?" 

"You've got it," she said. 

"Left, or right?" Peryn asked. 

Illia thought for a moment. "We'll take left," she said. 

Everyone stood in silence for a moment before Lydia laughed and started down the path to the right. Peryn and Kharjo glanced at each other and shrugged, before following her into the darkened corridor. 

*** 

Hadvar blinked to shield his eyes from the sun reflecting off of the snow. Even though everyone could feel spring coming to Dawnstar, it wasn't going to stop the snowfall for a good while. The sun was out, though, which seemed to raise everyone's spirits a little. 

Hadvar pulled open the door to the White Hall, where Jugarik was waiting for him. "Any news?" He asked. Hadvar shook his head. 

"It's the same as before," he said. "We wait for Ullne to be fully recovered, and Rikke did stress 'fully', and then report back to Solitude. In the meantime, we're on guard duty." 

Jugarik nodded. "The Jarl was looking for you," he said. 

"Do you know what she wants?" Hadvar asked. 

"She wouldn't say. Just that she wanted you specifically, and she didn't think it was important enough for me to get ready to fight something." 

Hadvar smiled. That was Jugarik, alright. Good lad, but a bit too eager to get into fights when it wasn't necessary. He wondered occasionally why Rikke had seen fit to assign him to a scouting team, but she probably had a reason. Or multiple, knowing Rikke. 

The Jarl was sitting on her throne, staring into the fire as though it held the secrets of the gods. She looked up briefly when Hadvar entered, then returned to the fire. 

"You asked for me, my Jarl?" He asked. 

She gave a wry chuckle. "I'm not sure I like this new formality," she said. "But I certainly didn't ask for you to complain about that. I'll get used to it, just like I did when I became a Legate." The Jarl sighed and shook her head. "No, I asked you to come here because I'm very worried." 

"What about?" Hadvar asked. 

"Dragons," she said simply. "We're completely exposed. Bows and arrows are in short supply. Every building is made of thatch and wood. I've given standing orders to the guards to prepare water bucket runs to the harbor in case of a fire, but that's all we can do." 

"Even if it’s not much, what else is there to do?" Hadvar asked. "You said it yourself." 

"I know," she said. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me how to fight the damn things. I may have been out of the loop here, but even I know that your Dragonborn has more experience fighting them than anyone else alive." 

"He's all of Skyrim's Dragonborn, not mine," Hadvar said. "And I've only been around for one dragon fight. It's not like I can write a book on how to do it." 

"That one dragon fight is one more than anybody in all of the Pale," the Jarl reminded him. "But I'm not asking you to take over training my men; I'm asking you if there's anything that you can remember that we might be able to use in case one of them decides to come here." 

Hadvar grimaced. "About the only things that were good were arrows and cover that wouldn't catch fire." 

The Jarl sighed. "Damn," she said. "I was hoping for better news. I suppose we'll just have to buy wood and persuade Beitild to sell us some ore, and hopefully at a price that isn't crazy as she is." 

Horik snorted from his position next to the Jarl's throne. "That’s not going to happen," he said. "She'd see that as letting her husband get the upper hand on her. And she was a Stormcloak supporter." 

"Hopefully the threat of a dragon burning down her house with the rest of the city changes her mind," the Jarl said, though she didn't sound particularly hopeful. "Anyway, that's all I really needed. Thank you for your help, Hadvar." 

"I wish I'd been able to give some more," he said, before turning and walking toward the door. 

"Oh, and Hadvar?" The Jarl called, as he was almost out of the building. He turned back to her. "From what I've heard, he's definitely your Dragonborn." 

Hadvar didn't bother to dignify that with a response. 

*** 

Peryn had to control himself from being more interested in looking around at the ruins than trying to get through them, especially when he considered that there were things coming out of nowhere that were trying to kill them. He was impressed that the Dwemer had built defense mechanisms that could survive even until now, but that didn't mean that he liked fighting them any more. 

The worst part was that there was no sneaking up on them, meaning that they were reduced to fighting the large metal constructs head on. Peryn knew that he'd become handy with a sword after a few years of mercenary work, but he still considered himself an archer first and foremost, and he didn't like that he almost never was in a position to switch his sword for his bow. He wondered, briefly, exactly how shooting arrows at the automatons would help destroy them. The metal they were made from was obviously soft from the dents that had been left by their swords but without blood and the ability to feel pain a big advantage of arrows was lost. 

His thinking was interrupted by yet another sphere rolling toward them. Peryn sighed. They weren't that hard to destroy, probably related to them being Eras old, but this was going to get old really quickly. He wondered just how many of the damn things the Dwemer had hidden in this place. Hopefully not nearly as many as it seemed like at the moment. 

*** 

Farkas was getting a little bit tired of the spiders. He didn't much like the normal ones, either, but they were mostly harmless and got driven away during the winter. Frostbite Spiders were worse, seeing as they were huge and spat venom, as well as their habit of dropping from the ceiling of caves where they had made their home. Dwarven Spiders, though, were the worst. The metal crawlers weren't especially strong, but they were fast and appeared in swarms. 

The Imperial mage, Illia, was having trouble with them. She was a pure mage and not much good when her magic proved ineffective against the spiders. She'd given up on freezing them pretty quickly and focused on helping Farkas and Vilkas be as strong as possible for the melee. He never understood why the Companions thought magic was less honorable than a sword. Even though Illia hadn't attacked a spider in a while, she'd been as useful with her Courage spells and Restoration pain relief as the Huntress would have been with her bow. 

The ruins were full of paths that led to rooms that had only some kind of strange machines or were partially caved in. Illia would always give those rooms an appraising eye, as though she was trying to figure out the secrets of the Dwemer in each one. 

They walked into the next room, which was far larger than the hallways and side rooms they had been in. The ceiling was taller than the one on the top level of Jorrvaskr, and several spikes blocked something on the other side. 

"Another dead end?" Vilkas asked. "There's not much left down this way." 

Illia didn't answer, just walked toward the spikes. "There's a lever over here," she said. "I wonder what happens if we pull it?" 

She reached down to do that, but Vilkas ran over and grabbed her wrist. 

"You shouldn't do that," he said. 

"Why not?" 

"It could be a trap. Who knows what could happen if you pull that?" Vilkas said. 

"It could also be a way further into the ruins," Illia said. "It's not like there are many other ways to go." 

"She's right," Farkas said. "There's no harm in trying." 

"Fine," Vilkas said, "But I should do it. You'll probably be weaker against anything that they set up as a trap. Those spiders haven't affected much by your magic." 

Illia glanced at him but then nodded. "Alright," she said, stepping back from the lever. "Let's see what this does." 

Vilkas grabbed hold of the lever and pulled. There was a sound of metal scraping against stone from their right, and then they heard the same sound from in front of them as the spikes receded into the floor. The three of them exchanged a glance before stepping into the now open area. Another lever and more spikes sat before them. They looked at each other before Farkas walked up and pulled the lever. 

Again they heard spikes sliding into or out of the floor from another part of the room before the ones in front of them fell. A moment later, the same scraping sound came from behind them as the spikes there rose. 

"It must be a puzzle," Vilkas said. "They wanted to make sure that not just anyone could get past here." 

"Maybe that means there's a trap somewhere in here," Illia said. "Or maybe they just wanted to make sure anyone who was sneaking around wouldn't be able to be unheard, what with all of the spikes." 

"There's not much we can do but keep going," Farkas pointed out. "Just like a minute ago." 

Vilkas and Illia nodded, and the three of them continued on to the next room to do the same thing as before. It wasn't quite as straightforward as going from room to room; sometimes the rooms had two ways out, but eventually they came out of the last one. 

There was a door on the other side. Farkas reached it first and carefully pulled it open, revealing a lift and a torch suspended above it. 

"I think this is the point where we get the others," he said. 

'I think so, too," Illia said, stepping back and readying a spell. "I'll send for them. Hopefully they can get here pretty soon." 

*** 

Hadvar knocked on the doorframe of the women's quarters as he entered. Ullne sat up from where she had been lying against the far wall, clearly bored out of her skull. 

"When do I get out of here?" She asked. 

"Not up to me," Hadvar said, coming to a stop next to her bed. "I'm not the one who's in charge of the injured." 

Ullne fell back with a huff. "I feel fine," she said. "All that's going to happen now is that the leg's going to weaken because I haven't walked on it." 

"It's been less than two weeks," Hadvar said. "I don't think that's long enough to do anything to your leg. Besides, I trust the healers not to keep you down more than they think they need to. Only so many healthy soldiers running around right now." 

Ullne nodded. "I guess that's a good thing for me," she said. "Not that I have to like it." She glanced up at Hadvar. "Any ideas as to what we're doing after I get better?" She asked. 

"Scouting," Hadvar deadpanned. "We are a scout team. That's what we do." 

"Ok, sure, but where?" 

Hadvar thought for a moment. "I'd guess the Rift," he said. "Or somewhere in our territory. Winterhold isn't really worth taking until near the end, and Eastmarch is too dangerous right now." 

"So Mallus might finally stop bitching about the cold?" Ullne asked. 

"Gods, no," Hadvar said. "Besides, he'd just find something else anyway." 

*** 

Peryn peered down the shaft of the Dwemer lift, hoping to find something other than darkness. "Well," he said after a moment, "It's not flooded, I can tell you that much. Beyond that is anyone's guess." 

"So it's safe to go down?" Illia asked. 

"By the Nine, no," Peryn said. "It's the deepest area of a Dwarven ruin. It's dangerous as anything else in Skyrim. But we're still going down, especially with all six of us." 

"How many can fit on here at once?" Vilkas said, gesturing toward the lift. Peryn though for a moment before gently lifting himself onto the platform. 

"It seems steady enough," he said. "Farkas, get up here. We'll do this one at a time until it doesn't seem stable." 

When Farkas joined him on the platform, Peryn felt it start to sway slightly. Farkas stepped off to the side, causing the entire thing to tilt a little bit and making Peryn grab Farkas' arm to keep his balance. 

"That's that, then," Peryn said, reaching up with his free arm and grabbing the lever that protruded from the wall. "Two at a time and stay near the center. We'll wait for you down there." With that, he pulled the lever, and the mechanics of the lift groaned to life as the platform slowly sunk into the floor. 

The descent into the depths was slow enough that, while Peryn didn't feel like he was going to fall off of the platform, he still felt a sense of foreboding the entire time as they slipped into the darkness. 

"Do you have something so we can see?" Farkas asked. 

Peryn nodded. "Magic," he said, holding out his hand. A small ball of light appeared in his palm before floating around to sit above his head. "Good for everything from killing dragons to helping you find something in a closet." 

Farkas snorted. "Never thought about magic as much beyond messing with Daedra and throwing fireballs." 

"Most people don't," Peryn said, stepping gently off of the platform as it came to rest. "The flashy stuff is just more impressive." 

"Well," Farkas said, looking around. "You were wrong about it not being flooded." 

Peryn turned and saw that Farkas was right; most of the surrounding area was covered in water, although the area immediately around the lift was completely dry, as was a pathway that stretched out in front of them. 

"Ah, well," he said, shrugging slightly. "I can't be right all the time. That just wouldn't be fair." 

Farkas rolled his eyes. "Stop being so full of yourself and help me figure out how to get this back up to them." 

Peryn glanced around for a moment before noticing another lever that was sticking out of the wall. Farkas noticed it, too, and turned to pull it. Peryn heard a couple of gears begin to turn in the wall and watched as the platform began to rise back toward the upper parts of the ruins. 

"What should we do while we wait?" He asked. 

Farkas gestured to a shadowy lump on the ground a short distance from them. "We should get your light over there and figure out what in Oblivion that is." 

*** 

Lydia and Vilkas were the last two to go down into the deep parts of the ruins. When they got there, everyone else was standing around in a circle, a bright light shining above them. 

"Vilkas," Peryn said when he saw them. "Farkas said you might know what this is." He moved out of the way to reveal a hunched corpse with grey skin wearing only a loincloth. Lydia could see something that looked almost Elvish in its face, but it was craggy and ugly in a way that was unlike any Elf she'd ever seen, though she knew that wasn't a very large number. 

Vilkas made a noise like a small grunt. "I think I've seen something like this before," he said. "It's a Falmer." 

"So it is some kind of Elf?" Lydia asked. 

"Aye," Vilkas said. "But not like any of the Elves we'd see up on the surface." 

"I think I've heard of them," Illia said, crouching down to get a closer look at the body. "They were the original inhabitants of Skyrim. Snow Elves, they were called." 

Vilkas nodded. "The Nords who first came to Skyrim did so because of a war," he said. "At least, that's what the Harbinger has told me. The settled somewhere along the north coast, in a place called Sarthaal. After some time, the Elves who had been living in the area attacked the city and burned it to the ground. Only Ysgramor and two of his sons survived. They returned with the Five Hundred and drove the Elves out." 

"I've heard differently," Illia said. "At least, as to the first Nordic city part. I remember reading about the human migrations back in the Imperial City when I was younger. That explained how the Five Hundred Companions were able to make a kingdom after they drove out the Elves." 

"Either way," Vilkas said. "The Snow Elves were driven from their homes in the north of Skyrim, and turned to their cousins in the south, the Dwarves. Legend goes that the Dwarves offered to shelter the remaining Snow Elves but betrayed them and turned them into slaves instead. Why, I have no idea." 

"So this is a Snow Elf?" Peryn asked. "I'm amazed they're still around. Especially with the Dwarves gone." 

Vilkas shook his head. "This isn't a Snow Elf. This is something else, something evil. The Dwarves did something to these things, and now they're hateful creatures that live in the darkness of the ruins of their former masters." 

"Their souls," Illia said. "They have white souls." 

Lydia didn't know what that meant, but she knew it was nothing good from the way her Thane went pale at Illia's words. "Wh-white souls?" He asked, tripping over his words a bit. Lydia had never seen him so taken aback. 

"Somehow, yes," Illia said. 

"For those of us who don't understand," Farkas said. "What does that mean?" 

"You have a black soul," Peryn said. "So do I, and Kharjo, too. Anything intelligent does. Animals have white souls." 

"The Dwarves did...something that turned the Falmer souls white. They turned the Snow Elves into animals," Illia said, a grim look on her face. 

"These Dwarves do not seem like nice people," Kharjo remarked. "Messing with souls and building deadly metal men who move on their own. It seems very unwelcoming." 

"If the Falmer are living down here, we'll have to be careful," Vilkas said. "Even with whatever the Dwemer did to them, they're still cunning and deadly. They won't take kindly to us being here."


	12. Dawnstar

4 First Seed, Fredas, 4E202

Peryn stood and spread out his legs before squatting down in an attempt to stretch them out. He had been sitting for the last part of his watch, occasionally re-summoning his Flame Atronach, who floated around the other side of their makeshift camp.

Peryn liked being out away from cities, but there was nothing he hated more than watch. Most of the more creative uses for his magic came from nights where he was sitting around trying to figure out how to spend the few hours until he got to go back to sleep. That’s why he hadn’t lit a fire outside for years; he’d been able to summon a Flame Atronach since he’d left Elsweyr. They changed every once in a while though, or the same one took on a new appearance, so every few months it was like he got a new one.

Speaking of the Flame Atronach, it was high time she got a name. Well, Peryn assumed that the breast-looking things meant she was female, if fire had a gender. Did fire have a gender? Did the female-looking appearance of the Atronach mean that fire did have one, or did the Atronach just like that particular look? He had been thinking about learning to summon a Frost Atronach, maybe that would give him a reference point.

Peryn decided that these thoughts were probably the result of a lack of sleep more than anything else, and tried to think of a relatively neutral name for the Atronach. Just on the off chance that the Atronach was the same one he’d been with for years, and it was changing the way it looked every once in a while. Offending a personification of fire seemed like something that should be avoided. He figured the Atronach probably had a name, actually, but something that a non-Daedra probably couldn't hope to try and say with any accuracy. Still, he thought it might not be a bad idea to ask before the watch was out.

***

Hadvar groaned and sat up on his bed. Even though the Jarl had insisted that his men didn't have to take any watches, he still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night ready to go stand in the cold for a few hours. This was one of those nights he wasn't able to get back to sleep afterward. 

Hadvar stood up and pulled on his boots before moving toward the door. He pushed it open into the calm night, only the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore in the distance disturbing the stillness. Standing near the other door, leaning against the railing, was another figure. As he got closer to her, Hadvar recognized the figure as Kirstina.

"Septim for your thoughts?" He asked, stepping to stand beside her by the railing. She didn't answer, just stared out at the dark shadows of the city.

"Do you have family?" She asked after a minute of silence.

"My parents are dead," Hadvar said. "Raised by my Uncle Alvor, the blacksmith in Riverwood, and his wife. They have a daughter, Dorthe. That's about it."

Kirstina hummed, not shifting from her position. "I grew up on a farm not far from here," she said. "Two brothers and a sister. I'm the oldest by a couple of years, but they're all grown."

"Do you get to see them?" Hadvar asked. Kirstina laughed, but it came out as a mixture of a snort and a choked sob.

"I joined the Legion a few years before the civil war started," she said. "My family, they...they're all Stormcloaks. My ma still tends the farm, but..." 

Kirstina took a breath to steady herself. "The last I heard from them was a letter from my youngest brother. He...he told me...he told me he was going to Windhelm to join Ulfric's army and make his mother proud...just like his sister and brother. And I shouldn't come back unless I was going to do it too."

Hadvar reached out and put his hand on her back, taking his other one a wiping away a tear that was gliding down her cheek. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"It's just been hard, being so close to home," Kirstina said. "I remember coming to Dawnstar for market days when I was a girl, and now we're basically occupying it. It's full of good memories for me, but those were all with my family, and now...now they won't have anything to do with me."

"Do you want to tell me about them?" Hadvar asked.

Kirstina shrugged. "I'm not sure what good it'll do. My pa is dead, and my brothers and sister are enemy soldiers. If I see them again, I swore an oath to kill them, and they swore one to kill me. Until this is done, I don't want to see them again. Once it's over, I'm still honestly not sure."

"When I was a boy, my best friend was a kid named Ralof," Hadvar said. "We were always together, always getting into trouble, too. I might have even loved him a little bit, young as I was. I didn’t see him for years after I enlisted, though. But then I did. Do you know where?" Kirstina shook her head, the motion barely visible in the moonlight. "I saw him again in line for the block in Helgen, with Ulfric Stormcloak himself. The gods must have been mocking me, to make me send someone who used to mean that much to me to his death. Then they mocked me again by sending that damn dragon."

"Did he die?" Kirstina asked. 

"No," Hadvar said. "I hate myself for it, but I'm grateful that the dragon stopped the executions, even if that meant Ulfric lived. That dragon saved Ralof and Peryn. I can't bring myself to be sad about that."

"I'm scared that when this is over I'll go back and find that all of them are dead, even though they don't want to talk to me anymore," Kirstina said. " They're still my family, even though we aren't speaking anymore. I guess you felt the same way, though."

"I think war would be easier if we didn't have to remember that we're killing  _people_ all the time," Hadvar said. "Not having to deal with the fact that we know some of the enemy would make this a lot less painful. But I also think it's probably a good thing that war isn’t easy."

"It's terrible, isn't it? Instead of loving our families and our friends, we're killing them."

"But we still fight."

"But we still fight."

Kirstina turned to go back to the barracks. "I have a question for you," she said, after a step or two.

"What is it?"

"You can tell me if I'm out of line, but you and Peryn, you clearly care about each other. I've only seen you together for a couple of days and it's obvious. Why do you keep dancing around it?"

Hadvar sighed. "He's a legend come to life. The stories say he was blessed by Akatosh with the soul of a dragon, and he told me once that the last Dragonborn to visit the Greybreads was Talos himself. People are saying he's written about in the Elder Scrolls. I can’t ask him to put all of that aside for me."

"He would," Kirstina said. "And, Hadvar, he's just a person, legend or not. Do you think it's fair to him to make that choice for him?

Hadvar didn’t answer. "No," he said eventually. "But...nearly losing Ralof was really hard, and I hadn’t spoken to him in years. He was nothing to me at that point. We're in a war and the dragons are back. If I lost Peryn, too, especially if we were, well, anything...I don't know what I'd do. And he fights dragons."

He turned back to the railing and waited for the soft click of the door closing behind Kristina before sighing and cradling his head in his hands.

***

Lydia decided that the metal giant was a step too far on the part of the Dwarves. The rolling metal things that had tried to kill them earlier were annoying, but at least they were easy enough to turn into a pile of scrap metal. This thing, probably three times her height with legs as big as the twins, was actually going to be a problem.

She realized, as she ducked behind a pillar to avoid a blast of steam from the giant thing, that it made a lot of sense why Mjoll had to flee and leave Grimsever behind. Peryn had found it lying on the ground just before this thing had activated and started to attack them. One woman alone would be completely unable to take down something like this, even if she'd avoided all of the Falmer that they'd run into that morning.

The twins were side by side between the construct's legs, taking advantage of its huge size to be able to take swings at the joints almost unimpeded. Peryn and Illia had summoned their Flame Atronachs just to have another pair of attackers, even though it didn't seem like either of them was doing much damage to the huge machine. Once the Atronachs were summoned, Peryn and Illia joined Lydia and Kharjo by trying to hit the lumbering construct with arrows while staying out of the way of anything that could do any lasting damage.

Peryn ducked out of the way as the machine took a lumbering step toward him and swiped with a metal arm. Lydia sighed and notched another arrow. Whatever happened to the Dwarves, she hoped it was painful.

***

"Good news," Hadvar said, as he shut the door to the barracks behind him. "You're cleared to be up for a while."

"How long is a while?" Ullne asked. "All I've done so far is to the door and back a couple of times."

"As long as you can handle it," Hadvar said. "But you've got to be honest about when that point is."

Ullne groaned.

"If you make it worse, there's not much I can do. Nobody in Dawnstar is a master Restoration user," Hadvar said.

"It feels like this is a lot longer than the last time I got injured," Ullne said, turning to sit on the side of the bed.

"Last time you got injured you were in Solitude with some of the best healers in the province to get you patched up right away," Hadvar pointed out. "Peryn's pretty talented, but he's not much of a healer."

"Really?" Ullne asked. "I got the impression when we met him that you thought he was one of the gods."

"First the Jarl, now you and Kirstina," Hadvar grumbled. "Whatever happened to leaving well enough alone?"

"I can't speak for the Jarl," Ullne said. "But the rest of us like you and want you to be happy, and it's obvious who does that for you." She smirked. "It also gives us something to gossip about. We go through a lot of topics when we're stuck at a camp."

"I'm glad my life is enough to fill some of your down time," Hadvar said, rolling his eyes. "I'll make sure to go and cause a couple of scenes later so you have something new to talk about."

"Please do," Ullne said. "A good one could keep us entertained for a couple of days."

***

13 First Seed, Loredas, 4E202

Peryn found the Lioness in the Bee and Bard, muttering something under her breath that didn't sound pleasant at all. He held in a grin; she'd be feeling better in just a couple of minutes.

"How have you been, Mjoll?" He asked, sliding into the seat across from her. He took a minute to be surprised that Arien wasn't around.

"Better until that Black-Briar bitch sent someone to my door," she said. "And not even to threaten me or anything, just to tell me that she thought it was cute, how I was trying to make Riften a better place."

"Gods, I can't stand that woman," Peryn said. "At least the Silver Bloods have the class to lord over Markarth quietly."

"Can't say that's any better," Mjoll said, "But I don't live there." She paused to take a swig of her drink before continuing. "So, what brings you back to this hive? It's been half a year since I saw you last."

"I've got a present for you," Peryn said, standing. He'd been carrying Grimsever since he found himself a room for the night. He shrugged off his bow before reaching back and removing the sword from the baldric on his back. "You did talk about how much you were missing this."

"By the Nine!" Mjoll said, reaching out tentatively to grab the sword. "You actually found Grimsever?"

"It took a bunch of us, but we did it," Peryn said.

Mjoll sat in silence for a minute, staring at the sword. "I can't believe it," she said eventually. "I’d long since given up hope of ever seeing this weapon again. To think that you were able to reach it and yet return to tell the tale. Rarely in my travels have I encountered those who possess skills equal to your own. I see I still have much to learn."

Peryn laughed. "Mjoll," he said. "It took six people: me, two Companions, a Housecarl, an Imperial mage, and a Khajit caravan guard, to get somewhere you managed to make it on your own. I think you're the impressive one in this story."

"Well," Mjoll said, with a small smile. "I suppose we'll just have to settle with agreeing that we're both impressively dangerous. If you'd permit me, I'd be honored to accompany you in your travels for a time."

"Would you want to leave Riften?" Peryn asked.

"Getting some time away from the Black-Briars wouldn’t do me any harm at all," Mjoll said, expression hardening. "This may be my home, but that doesn't mean it doesn't depress me sometimes."

"Welcome to Skyrim," Peryn said. "That's a normal feeling here, I gather."

***

14 First Seed, Sundas, 4E202

"I think you might be taking my 'protector of Riften' image a bit too far," Mjoll said, settling against the wall of a nearby shop.

Peryn gave her a look. "Are you telling me that you don't want to eliminate a major source of the Skooma trade?" he asked. "Because that would go against everything that I know or have heard about you."

"Well, no," she said. "But you did seem to change your mind on traveling with me when you heard about this."

"It's not just because you're from Riften," Peryn said. "It's also because you happened to be  _in_  Riften at the time, and I needed somebody for this. I don't much feel like going after a Skooma gang myself; two people are much better for that."

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better," Mjoll said with a wry smile. "I think I'd rather be thought a bigger hero than I am than taken somewhere as a warm body."

Peryn laughed. "You're a warm body who might be one of the best couple of dozen fighters in Skyrim," he said. "Trust me, I don't think there are many people going around overestimating your abilities. You’re too good for that."

Mjoll pushed herself off of the building with a sigh. "I suppose I'll tell Aerin that I'll be heading out for a few days. I'm sure he'll manage by himself."

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be over at the Temple," Peryn said. "It might be worth seeing what the gods can do for me these days."

After Mjoll turned to return to her home, Peryn followed the river upstream to the Temple of Mara. He'd never been to the temple, even though at this point he'd been to Riften a few different times. The temple was actually quite plain, nothing distinguishing it from the homes of the more affluent citizens save for the large steeple that rose above the other buildings. Peryn thought it was fitting that the temple to the Goddess of Love looked like something people would imagine with love; a quiet, if rather large, house right on the river. In that sense, it was more fitting than, say, the Temple of Diabella, which seemed to dwarf the entire city with a giant symbol of sex. Perhaps there was irony in it, or perhaps Peryn thought of things like this just to occupy himself when nobody was around. He honestly wasn't sure which.

When he pulled open the heavy oaken doors, he found himself in what was a decent impression of the front room of a very pious person. In fact, he would have thought to go back and check the sign on the door had he not seen an alter and several long benches in the next room. He walked inside and knelt in front of the altar.

Peryn had never been an especially religious person, since most of his religious education came from Khajit, who were more concerned with how the gods affected the moons than anything else. Obviously, that had far more significance to them than to him. Still, ever since he had set foot in Cyrodill as a mercenary, he’d found temples and shrines soothing places to be. The landscape there was dotted with wayshrines that provided a small respite from the wilderness around them, usually with a worshiper or two to converse with after a couple weeks of nobody but the cats for company.

Mara was a strange goddess for him to pray to. Usually, the goddess of love and family didn’t have much to offer to a wandering sellsword whose family had been dead for years. The other gods, Yiffre, Julianos, even Zenithar for Ra’soud, the blacksmith who looked after him those rough couple of years, they all were far more likely to receive prayers and offerings when Peryn found himself at a shrine. The only god he prayed to less was Diabella, given his lack of interest in women, or sex in general for that matter. 

Now, though, Peryn thought, he had some reason to thank this goddess. He had people for the first time in years who felt like something resembling a family. Lydia and the twins, Kharjo, and Hadvar most of all. He was grateful for all of them, and whether or not Mara had anything to do with it, he felt like it was only fitting to give somebody a thank you. Perhaps he’d let himself grieve too much.

When he rose, he saw a Dumner woman sitting on the front-most bench, smiling at him softly. “Welcome to the Temple of Mara,” she said, rising. “It is good to see somebody new here.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It is a nice temple.”

“I hope that it is something more than that,” she said wrily. “Riften is drowning in a sea of sin and wickedness, and it is my personal mission to let everyone know that the light of Mara can shine through.”

“That’s, um…that’s very noble of you,” Peryn said. “This place certainly could use some more of the gods.”

“As could you,” the priestess said, giving Peryn an appraising eye. “Lady Mara did tell us you would be coming.”

“Excuse me?” Peryn said, raising an eyebrow.

“One of our acolytes had a dream about a week ago of a soldier coming to the temple. She said that he looked at peace, which for some reason struck her as unusual, and that he had our Lady’s Restoration magic surrounding him. He looked Nordic, but something was a little bit off.” She chuckled. “The poor girl was a Nord and confused by that, but I recognize the Aldmer in you, Breton.”

“Why would Mara send your acolyte a dream about me?” Peryn asked.

The priestess shrugged. “The gods may be good, but their reasons are a mystery to all mortals. That is why they are gods. Though I would assume it is because the goddess believes that it is important that we knew you were coming, and so there must be something which she can help you with, or perhaps something with which you can help us. Tell me, what could cause the goddess to weep for you?”

“Nothing that has not been true for years,” Peryn answered. 

The priestess considered this for a moment. “Perhaps there is something that has been true that may not be true for much longer. A sadness that may soon end?”

A name snapped into Peryn’s head, and clearly onto his face as well, because the Dunmer smiled again. “Ah,” she said. “I won’t pry, but I think we’ve found why we were informed of your coming.” There was a quiet creak as the door to the temple opened and shut again, causing the priestess to turn.

“I will let you go,” she said. “Please, my name is Dinya Balu. I hope to see you soon, so that our lady can help you.”

She turned and walked out of the room, gently greeting Mjoll as the two women passed in the doorway.

The Nord gave Peryn a look, to which he shook his head. “Right, then,” she said. “Are you ready to go kill some poison peddlers?”

Peryn stretched his arms out and grinned. “Absolutely,” he said.


	13. Chapter 13: Compelling Tribute

20 First Seed, Loredas, 4E202 

The Legion's camp in the Rift was a slightly nicer place to base a detachment than the camp in the Pale, seeing as how in the Rift, the world itself didn't feel as though it was struggling to survive. Like in the Pale, the camp was pressed up against the side of a mountain, though this time the concern was concealment instead of warmth. Hadvar liked this part of Skyrim better than the frozen north, though a lot of that probably had to do with the fact that the environment was close to what he had grown up with in Riverwood. Even this far south, winter came with a vengeance, but by this time of year, spring had taken hold and was far gentler to the inhabitants of the Rift. 

Ullne was walking normally again, which made Hadvar feel much better about his decision to bring her along when he received his new orders. The first couple of days coming down from Dawnstar had been difficult, for her and for the others who had to find a balance between helping when necessary and knowing when that would do more harm than good. Ullne was far too stubborn to ask for help on her own, just like any good Nord would be. He understood, of course, being Nord himself, but it didn't mean that it wasn't exasperating to see her trip over every branch in the path for the first two days. 

"Right," he said, turning to face his men before they entered the camp. "You go and take a rest while I see what Rikke wants from us. Hopefully we'll have a night or two in camp." 

They didn't need to be told twice, Mallus doing an impertinent little salute before leading the others off in the direction of the pots of stew that were hanging over the fire. Hadvar rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly before walking over to the command tent, where Rikke was making some notes on the map of the Hold. 

"Ah, the cavalry are here," she said, glancing up as Hadvar pushed away the flaps on the tent. "Good. I think we'll control the Rift by the end of next month." 

"Sounds optimistic, ma'am," Hadvar said. 

Rikke snorted. "Peryn dropped by a couple of days ago. He was already in Riften on unrelated business, luckily for me. Now I have a Thane of the Rift gathering intelligence from the Jarl's dirty Steward. You're just the icing on top." 

"Always glad to make your dessert a little sweeter," Hadvar said. 

"It'd be even better if you could find a supply of weapons that a little bird from Shor's Stone told us about yesterday," Rikke said. "It's late enough that you should leave tomorrow to track it, but that's your mission." 

"What do we have on it?" Hadvar asked. 

"Not much besides it being a supply convoy from Riften to Windhelm," Rikke said. "Ulfric got nervous after Fort Dunstad fell. It left from Riften this morning with eight guards and the driver. And a weakened axle, courtesy of a contact within the Thieves Guild." 

"Now that's some good news," Hadvar said. "Thank the gods there's no honor among thieves." 

"The contact figured that the axle would give out after a couple of days travel, give or take," Rikke said. "That would put it a little past Shor's Stone. Get yourself there and then track the damn thing and take it out." 

"Consider those weapons ours," Hadvar said. 

"Good man." 

*** 

21 First Seed, Sundas, 4E202 

"No." 

"Oh?" Peryn said, leaning against the wooden support pillar. "I'm not sure that you have much of a choice in the matter." 

"And why should I betray my Jarl's trust to you?" Anuriel asked. "Why, I'm sure she'd be very interested to know that her new Thane is an Imperial spy." 

"Personally," Peryn said, "I think she'd be more interested to know that her Steward has been conspiring with Maven Black-Briar to keep her in the dark about the activities of the Thieves Guild. Especially when there's proof. What would happen if this letter of yours was to be made public?" 

"It would ruin me," Anuriel said instantly. "I have a good thing going here And the Jarl benefits from my more creative arrangements as well, though it would be impossible for her to admit that." 

Anuriel turned and stepped further into her room. "Laila is a simple and traditional woman, which makes it easy to manipulate her, but impossible to regain her graces once offended. But perhaps we could come to some kind of agreement?" 

"I'm listening," Peryn said. 

"What if I told you about a large shipment of gold and weapons?" Anuriel asked. "Enough to make a significant difference in the war." 

Peryn considered that. While cutting into the rebel's supplies would be nice, it might be better to hold out for something bigger. Anuriel was almost certainly exaggerating the size of the shipment, that much was obvious by how desperate she was to get that letter back, and it would be almost impossible to use her as a source without it. Still, he didn't need to use her to kill Ulfric for this to be a successful mission. 

"Alright," he said, after a moment. "We have a deal. Where can I find this shipment?" 

"It left Riften a couple of days ago," Anuriel said, walking back toward the door with an outstretched hand. Peryn passed over the letter. 

"Good," she said. "Now, the caravan was headed to Windhelm. It's heavy and slow moving, but also guarded by many men. I'd guess about a dozen of them." 

"Thank you for your help," Peryn said. 

"Let's pretend we never had this discussion," she said. "It would work out better for the both of us, I think." 

*** 

22 First Seed, Morndas, 4E202 

"It came by this morning," Ullne said. "The tavern was filled with people talking about what could be worth all that protection." 

Hadvar swore. "How much protection are we talking about?" 

"I heard everything from a dozen to twenty men. Probably believe the lower end of that, myself," Ullne said. 

"So a lot, but not too many," Mallus said. "I suppose that's better than it could have been." 

"I'm not sure I like the idea of us going up against more than twice our numbers, though," Kirstina said. "That sounds like a good way to get lose somebody we don't have to." 

"We don't have a choice," Jugarik said from his place by the fire. "Our orders are to take this caravan, one way or another." 

"It's certainly not a problem for tonight," Hadvar decided. "It's too late to keep looking for the cart, and we know it's not going to get too far ahead of us. We'll figure out how to take it once it's in our sight." 

He turned to Ullne. "Go back to the inn and keep your ear to the ground. If somebody has something new to say about those soldiers, I want to know about it in the morning." 

"Aye, sir," she said. 

"Don't get too used to your nice bed," Mallus said, giving her a teasing shove. "Gods know you won't have one again for a while." 

"Yeah, I know I'll have to join you back here on the cold hard ground tomorrow, but I'm going to enjoy it while I have the chance," Ullne said, as she started to walk away. "Not often I can get the Empire to pay for a nice room with a fire." 

*** 

24 First Seed, Middas 4E202 

Hadvar stood on the edge of the ridge, looking down at the broken caravan. The axle had snapped a couple of hours ago, just like Rikke said it would. It was bad luck that it broke when it did, honestly. It was early enough in the morning that there was always the danger of a patrol stumbling upon the cart. The runner they'd sent out earlier would have been an even bigger problem, had Kirstina and Jugarik not put a pair of arrows in his back as soon as he was out of sight of the camp. As unfortunate as the timing of the breakdown was, the place couldn't be any better. Hadvar's men were set up on a forested ridge above the road right as it turned, so that there was no way to see the Stormcloaks unless you were right on top of them. 

The plan was to wait until nightfall, in the hope that they would be more able to surprise the enemy if they attacked in the dark. Hadvar glanced up again at the midday sun and swore. There was going to be a lot of waiting between now and then. 

"Someone's coming," Mallus said, turning his head to focus on something. "They're being quiet, so I don't think they're the enemy." 

"Civilian?" Jukarik asked. "No, they wouldn't have any reason to be stealthy, either. Probably bandits then. Damn! They must have seen the wagon." 

Mallus didn't answer. "Doesn't look like it," he said after a moment. "Looks like just one? But why would one person try to stay hidden on a main road?" 

Hadvar stepped over to him. "Where's the movement?" he asked, trying to follow Mallus' eyes. 

"Near the edge of the trees on the opposite side of the road, just before the bend," Mallus said, eyebrow rising in confusion. "Whoever this person is, they're damn good at not being seen by people who aren't paying attention." 

Hadvar scanned the area, looking for the movement that Mallus was talking about. After a couple of seconds, he saw the foliage shift ever so slightly, something he probably wouldn't have seen without one of the Legion's best trackers alerting him to it. Mallus drew his bow as the figure appeared to be about to break the treeline before Hadvar held up a hand to stop him. 

"Hold your fire," he said with a smile. "That's a friend down there." 

"How do you know that?" Jugarik asked. 

Hadvar didn't answer, instead watching as the figure sprinted from one side of the road to the other in the blink of an eye. "Get the girls," he said. "Those supplies are as good as ours." 

Jugarik didn't hesitate and went off to the other side of the camp, where Ullne and Kirstina were watching over the Stormcloak guards. 

"What in Oblivion is going on?" Mallus asked. 

"Peryn's here," Hadvar said, unable to suppress a grin. 

*** 

"So the blackmail only got us information we already knew and a feeling of being dirty," Peryn said. "Glad to have that one out of the way." 

"There's good news, though," Hadvar said. "With you here, that wagon should be easy to take. It would have been a lot more complicated without you." 

"There is that," Peryn agreed. "And I'm not going to complain about any chance to see you." 

Hadvar blushed at that, causing Kirstina to snicker from where she was standing nearby. "Quiet, you," he grumbled. 

Peryn looked up at the sky. "We've got, what, five or so hours until dusk? Probably another hour or two until it's dark enough to attack?" he asked. 

"That sounds right," Hadvar said. 

"And there's been no sign of anybody coming to help the Stormcloaks." 

"They sent out a runner just after the axle broke," Hadvar said. "His body is over in the bushes there if you want to take a look." 

Peryn made a face. "I'll pass," he said. 

"I don't think there's anyone who knows about the wagon being stuck here besides them and us," Kirstina said. "We should be fine to attack tonight, as long as we're able to stay here without getting spotted until sundown." 

"Nothing to do then but wait," Peryn said. "I guess that could be worse." 

*** 

Peryn looked around the site of the small battle, seeing what equipment the rebels had that might be worth adding to the shipment. A couple of the swords seemed new enough that he took them from where they had fallen next to their owners and moved them onto the cart. They'd probably have to go through the Stormcloaks' pockets, too, before sending for some more soldiers to help them move the supplies. 

That could all wait a minute, though. For now, it would probably be a good idea to see if anybody needed any healing. Peryn had already patched up a couple of small cuts he'd received, more out of habit than anything else, but he hadn't had a chance to check on the others yet. The good news was that nobody had taken a hit strong enough to take them out of the fight, thanks to the element of surprise. 

Peryn stepped around to the other side of the card, where Mallus and Ullne were moving a couple of bodies off of the path. "Let me take a look at the two of you," he said. 

"We're fine," Ullne told him. "Barely got hit at all." 

"I'll be the judge of that," Peryn said with a snort. "You say you're fine and not to worry about the cut, and then two days later it's infected and a lot harder to deal with." 

"I think I've got some bruising on my arm, but nothing bad," Mallus said. "It's just a little sore." 

Peryn summoned some Candlelight and motioned for Mallus to turn his arm towards it. Mallus fumbled with the straps of his armor for a moment before extending the limb in question out to where Peryn could see it. Mallus was right, there was only a little bruising, probably from having his shield slammed into the arm at an angle. It would probably be fine on its own, but Peryn wanted to encourage coming to see the nice healer after a fight and making sure that there wasn't something that could kill them if they got unlucky. 

After finishing with Mallus, Peryn turned expectantly to Ullne. "I'm fine," she said, before he had a chance to say anything. 

"And I suppose that's why you're favoring the leg that got hit in the Pale?" Peryn asked. Ullne scowled. Damned Nords and their refusal to work with magic. 

"It's nothing," she said. "Just a little sore is all." 

"Hm," Peryn gave her a look. "Well, you know where to find me. And if you forget to see me later, I'm not above going over your head to make sure you do." 

Jugarik and Kirstina were much more willing to get look over than Ullne, though they both had only a couple of small cuts each. Peryn took care of them easily, moving his hands over the injuries and watching as they healed before his eyes. He thought about seeing if he could get some more Restoration Training somewhere either in Solitude or at the College of Winterhold. He used magic often enough that it wasn't especially physically demanding to heal, but he just didn't have enough grasp of the school to do a whole lot more than minor cuts and bruises. Really, the only school he could use well was Conjuration, and that came more from a natural affinity than anything else. That was the curse of being a jack of all trades; there was always something more that he felt he needed to learn. 

He went over to Hadvar last, not unaware of how he'd tried to hide himself on the other side of the wagon. Peryn wasn't entirely sure why, and, if he was being completely honest with himself, he thought it was probably something that either could be dealt with after everything else or would require a fair amount of their time. Hadvar had given the after-battle orders quickly before moving off to the far side of the scene, saying he was going to start cleaning things up on that end. 

True to his word, Hadvar was moving a couple of the enemy corpses off to the edge of the woods, where they would get a hasty burial once everything was said and done. He was moving a little bit slowly, not like he was injured, but instead like he was distracted from whatever it was he was doing. 

"I can hear you thinking from over here," Peryn said, leaning against the cart. "Is everything alright?" 

Hadvar stiffened, as though he wasn't expecting anyone to say anything to him. "Everything's fine," he said after taking a moment to collect himself. "Nothing more than what we normally have to deal with, anyway." 

"Come over here and let me take a look at you," Peryn said. "You didn't go and get yourself hurt, did you?" 

Hadvar didn't move from where he'd set down the second body. Peryn noticed that he was still looking out into the trees. The Candlelight vanished from behind him, leaving nothing but the moonlight to see by. 

Peryn stepped closer to where Hadvar was standing. "What's wrong?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "I know it's not nothing, but I can't help if you don't tell me." 

"There's no honor in murder," Hadvar said. "That's all we really are at this point, murderers. At least, sometimes I think that. There was the messenger in the Pale, and now the runner here and the sentry. We killed them without them even knowing what was going on. How is that any different than walking up to someone in the market and running them through with a sword?" 

"Well," Peryn said, "The Elves probably won't have an easier time destroying the Mundus if you don't run somebody through with a sword at the market." 

Hadvar turned to shoot Peryn a look. Peryn held up his hands. "I don't want to try to tell you that you shouldn't be worried about this, but killing is a dirty business," he said. "And I know that this feels dirtier than an open battle where everyone can see everyone else, but that's really not much better, at least to me. Killing is still killing." 

Hadvar ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a soldier," he said. "I may have joined up when the Legion wasn't actually fighting anyone, but I've never pretended that war wouldn't be part of my life eventually. But this..." he paused threw his arms out slightly. "This feels wrong. It feels dirty, and it feels like it goes against everything I was taught about being a Nord." 

"I know," Peryn said. "But if you feel strongly enough that what you're fighting for is right, and you know that there is absolutely no other option, then sometimes it's ok to do the thing that isn't honorable. Sometimes that saves more lives, sometimes that means that the fighting can end sooner and the rebuilding can begin." 

Peryn stepped next to him and, for the first time, saw the long, thin cut that ran down Hadvar's cheek. He reached up and ran his fingers over it, feeling the magic flow through him and the skin stitch itself together under his touch. 

"How do we know if that's the truth though?" Hadvar asked, voice cracking slightly. "How do we know if this is one of those times or not?" 

"We trust each other," Peryn said, shaking his head slightly. "That's all we can do." 

Hadvar reached up and took Peryn's hand lightly. "I just want to do the right thing. I know I'm fighting for the right side in this war, but I don't want to have to be a bad person to do what I think is right." 

Peryn leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Hadvar's forehead. "You are the fire in my hearth. You are my respite from the cold and dark of winter. You are light and warmth and love and everything that is good in this world," he said, looking directly into Hadvar's eyes. "Do not, not for one moment, think that you are anything other than an amazing and beautiful man." 

Hadvar blinked away a couple of tears that had started to form and chuckled lightly. "That's a little poetic, don't you think?" he asked. 

"Maybe," Peryn said. "I don't really care. I meant it." 

They stood there for a couple of minutes more, just looking at each other. "We should probably deal with the corpses," Peryn said after a minute. 

"We should ask Rikke for leave after this," Hadvar said. "Because I don't like how casually you said that. We need some time away from killing things." 

"Whatever you say," Peryn said, stepping back and summoning more Candlelight. "We'll see how much she likes us here in a couple of days."


End file.
